


Close your eyes a while

by IngridBeast



Category: Free!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Coffee Shops, Depression, Dorks in Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Kisumi is the fairy godmother we all deserve, Light Angst, M/M, Makoto needs a hug, Pining Sousuke, Slow Build, Slow Burn, University, oblivious Makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-22 23:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 32,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13774431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IngridBeast/pseuds/IngridBeast
Summary: Makoto is having a hard time re-adjusting to a lonely and stressful student life in Tokyo, and there is nothing Sousuke would like more than to make that life a little bit easier for him.





	1. Teal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bricker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bricker/gifts), [ishka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishka/gifts), [Sierra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sierra/gifts), [karumello](https://archiveofourown.org/users/karumello/gifts), [QueenOfGlacia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfGlacia/gifts).



> I'm gifting this fic to a handful of wonderful people who inspire me a lot and deserve more SouMako in their lives. <3

It’s not like he expected lightning to strike, in spite of the rumbling quality of Sousuke’s voice, but Makoto couldn’t help but feel somewhat disappointed that there wasn’t even the slightest spark of recognition when their eyes met as the cup of matcha latte was handed to him. Sousuke had given him a short “enjoy”, then swiftly moved on to the next customer in line.

 

Perhaps it was for the better. He certainly didn’t need distractions like catching up with old acquaintances so close to his midterms, but that hadn’t stopped him from coming in for a matcha almost every day when his schedule and wallet allowed him to. In truth, he should blame Kisumi. If it hadn’t been for Kisumi getting the manager position at What the Fox, Makoto wouldn’t have been lured in by discounted matcha and sinfully divine cinnamon rolls in the first place. And then, out of the blue, Yamazaki Sousuke was behind the till.

 

Makoto had never really considered Sousuke in any other regard than his swimming. He had barely exchanged words with him at school, and he only got a glimpse of the person behind the tall, dark and dangerous(ly handsome) demeanor when Sousuke ruined his shoulder to swim with Rin. Makoto had felt nothing but sadness on his behalf and deep respect for the amount of dedication and loyalty such a sacrifice displayed. He had also seen a bit of light go out in those teal eyes after that day. He didn’t think too much about it back then, not until Rin left for Australia again, and yet more of it seeped out. They were never close, but it was the sort of thing Makoto had grown accustomed to with Haru, so much emotion conveyed through those metaphorical windows. And when he met Sousuke again, that very day, on the other side of a café counter in Tokyo, the teal of his eyes was a dull thing, muted and subdued. How could he expect there to be a spark, when Sousuke’s entire light seemed to have gone out? 

 

Perhaps the butterfly swimmer had simply forgotten him? it had been over a year since last they saw each other. Perhaps he had recognised him, but felt awkward and decided to stay professional? Makoto stopped his own train of thoughts as he swallowed the small sip of steaming matcha he had just taken. Why on earth was he turning his brain inside out over this?

 

“I thought you two knew each other?” The question, wrapped up in the velvet that was Kisumi’s voice, caught him off guard. There was none of the sly cheek his friend would usually sport, just sincerity, and, having just mulled that very same question around in his own head, it felt odd to have it said out loud by someone else. Kisumi sat down, dropping his bag by the chair. His shift had ended and hour ago, but the afternoon rush must have had lasted longer than anticipated. He usually stayed behind whenever that happened, another subtle testament to the loyal and reliable person hidden under the layer of flirty winks, clever quips and a impeccable swag Kisumi was notorious for. When push came to shove, Makoto knew one could always count on that pink-haired dork to be there.

 

“I used to, I guess. I’ve not seen him since I moved to Tokyo. He must have forgotten me”, Makoto shrugged. Kisumi made an affirmative sound which contrasted the look in his eyes as their focus quickly flitted from green to teal and back to green again.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing. Oh, do you like the vanilla custard we added to the cinnamon rolls?”

 

“Kisumi, I paid for that! Stop nibbling on my food! And stop trying to change the subject.”

 

“What subject? Anyway, I know you’re not too big on change, but I hope you’ll come to like this one, as it might stay around for a while. Gotta go!” Makoto wasn’t sure if Kisumi was talking about the vanilla custard or about his new employee, but before he got the chance to ask, slender fingers tousled his hair, and then a whirlwind of pink disappeared out the door.

 

He sighed and pulled his notepad and a book out of his bag, but found himself setting them down unopened as his mind wandered to conversations he’d had with Rin after they all went their separate ways, Rin to Australia and him and Haru to Tokyo. There had been one skype call in particular; Rin had received another call he’d said he had to take, and by the time he had called him up again, it was past midnight.

_“Who was it”, Haru asked, gaze still glued the tv and the sea life documentary he’d been watching._

 

_“It was So-” Rin started before Haru cut him off._

_“Was it Yamazaki? I bet it was Yamazaki.” Makoto sighed at his friend before turning back to the computer screen where Rin’s face sported a touch of pink._

_“It was… someone I know who needed some advice.”_

_I knew it. Definitely Yamazaki,” Haru mumbled more to himself than anyone and Makoto ignored him._

_“I hope whoever it was got what they needed”, Makoto diplomatically offered, and Rin seemed to drop his shoulders a notch._

_“I hope so too. They’ve had a really tough time these last six months, and I can’t do anything about it other than to offer moral support. It’s really frustrating and I feel so guilty I can’t be there for him.”_

_“Why doesn’t he just use his name. We already established that it’s Yamazaki.”_

 

_“Shut up, Haru,” both of them snapped, and finally Haru turned his gaze over to them, looking from Rin on the screen to Makoto, and shrugged._

_“Tell me when you start talking about swimming”, he muttered and turned back. With another sigh, Makoto turned back again._

 

_“You were saying.”_

 

_“Yeah, I feel really bad for not being there for him. He’s got all this shit piling up on him, his dad is being a dick and work is sucking his soul out. Like, I know he really wants to study, and that’s the only reason he’s still working there; so that he can save up for it, but then there’s that nightmare with that girl where Gou had to step in and get the restraining order, and then his sh- uhm, this old, uh, damage, started kicking up a fuss again, and he’s not really on to talk about these things other than to me, you know? It’s just a shitty situation, I guess.”_

 

_“Can you wrap up the Yamazaki talk. The documentary is nearly over and I’ll get bored. Makoto hates it when I’m bored.” Ignoring Haru to the best of his ability, Makoto put on his best sympathetic face._

 

_“That sounds awful, Ri- wait, restraining order?”_

 

_“Yeah, his ex-girlfriend is a piece of work…”_

 

_“Yikes,” Makoto mumbled and, looking at Rin with uncertainty, dropped his voice and leaned in towards the microphone._

 

_“Is it, though? Sousuke?”_

 

_“Yeah”, Rin grumbled in bitter defeat._

 

_“I knew it.”_

 

_“SHUT UP, HARU!”_

 

“Everything okay?” Teal eyes, dark hair.


	2. Green

It’s not like he didn’t know this would happen. Makoto was a regular at the café after all and it was only a matter of time before he popped by. And yet Sousuke couldn’t help finding himself somewhat disappointed over the fact that those green eyes didn’t even look at him as their owner placed his order, too busy searching for the wallet in the depth of the bag resting on the edge of the counter. He had asked for the usual, clearly expecting a familiar face behind the till, and Sousuke felt both a little proud and immensely embarrassed that he knew what “the usual” meant. He also felt his heart trying to imitate the drums of the Imperial March in his chest, and poured all of his willpower into keeping his usually collected demeanor, but nerves got the better of him, and what he had planned to be a smooth, every so slightly seductive move, ended up as a scowl with an awkward ‘enjoy’. 

 

Green eyes widened in recognition as the cup of matcha changed hands, and Sousuke mentally cursed himself, moving swiftly on to the next customer in line in a panicked attempt to cover up his botched flirting. It was only when he dared a glance over at the olive haired boy he used to know that he realised he must have come across as an arrogant asshole. There’s a time and a place for everything and that would definitely have been the time for slamming his head into the wall in shame, but unfortunately it was not the place.

 

There had only been two more customers in line after Makoto, and as he finished the cortado for the last of the two, Kisumi sauntered out of the staff room and in behind the counter.

 

“What’s with the glum face?” Sousuke’s gaze slipped towards the table by the window currently occupied by the former captain of Iwatobi’s swim team. He could almost hear Darth Vader’s footsteps by the way his heart was going at it, and a hand gently squeezed his good shoulder.

 

“I see.”

 

“I just messed up the perfect opportunity to reconnect with him, and now he probably thinks that I'm either a dumbass who doesn't remember him, or an arrogant fuckwit who intentionally ignored him. Urgh! Kisumi, is there, like, a trap door here that I can escape through?”

 

“Sorry, that’s only for use in cases beyond repair. Come on, you can fix this.” Without further warning, his boss slinked away from him, and headed over to Makoto’s table. Sousuke busied himself. There was enough to do, now that they finally had a moment of calm. As he stood up again, having stacked the dishes into the dishwasher, he caught Kisumi’s eyes as they darted towards him for the better half of a second. The unspoken words in them were pretty clear.  _ “Fix it!” _

 

Scratching at his neck, Sousuke dried his hands on his apron and started collecting mugs and dishes from the tables. He watched his boss saunter out the door, and stole another glance over at the young man who had secretly been occupying his dreams through most of his year at Samezuka. He had never really had much of an excuse to talk to Makoto, and when he finally did, he had found himself so flustered, he barely managed to keep his cool. Makoto however seemed to be completely oblivious of the effect he had on Sousuke, and when his signature beaming smile lit up his face, all of Sousuke’s thoughts would crumble into a messy word salad. Sousuke was still trying to repress the awkward moment during that water gun fight when he heard Makoto’s smooth voice with that dangerous edge informing him of his skilled aim, and the effect it had on him had become very obvious. Kisumi had not let him forget about it. 

 

Cleaning up a small spillage on a nearby table, gave Sousuke the perfect opportunity to discreetly observe his old flame, and he noticed how the mug of matcha was left as good as untouched. An uncomfortable feeling started to settle in his stomach. What if he’d made it wrong and Makoto didn’t like it?  _ “Fix it!”  _  Kisumi’s unspoken words helped him fight the compulsion to sneak off before he was noticed, and he took a deep breath before approaching the table where Makoto sat gazing absentmindedly out of the window.

 

“Everything ok?” Green eyes snapped out of their distant reverie, and looked up at him, disoriented and confused.

 

“Uhm, huh?”

 

“Is your matcha ok? You’ve barely touched it… I can make you a new one if you didn’t enjoy it,” Sousuke offered. Realisation dawned in those emerald eyes, and they widened as a soft blush spread on the cheeks below them.

 

“N-no! It’s fine! I… I just got a bit distracted and sort of forgot about it,” Makoto explained and laughed that adorable laugh he had when he got a little nervous. It sent goosebumps down Sousuke’s arms, and sent his determination flailing to the floor, his heartbeat through the roof.

 

“Cool… uhm.. just let me know if there’s anything you need.” He turned around towards the till again, then stopped himself and turned back around, mustering every tidbit of courage he had left.

 

“It’s been a while, huh?” Sousuke felt every second that passed while he waited for Makoto’s response as if they were minutes, and the wave of relief that washed over him when Makoto finally smiled with genuine delight was so strong he nearly lost his footing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are very short, I know, but I'm going to try to post weekly.


	3. Gentle Intervention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I'm posting earlier than planned and this is longer than planned! Also, my fingers slipped and I gave Sousuke a motorcycle...

There was something endearing about the way Sousuke wobbled in obvious relief when the mutual recognition was confirmed with a smile. Makoto couldn’t recall having seen the former butterfly swimmer look so insecure, but it made him feel warm affection for Rin’s best friend.

 

“I thought you might have forgotten who I was for a while there, but I guess you were just pretty busy,” he rationalised, hoping it would put Sousuke a little bit more at ease, and the lopsided smile slowly tugging at the barista’s mouth would indicate that he succeeded.

 

“Heh, yeah, you kinda caught me off guard. So, Tachibana… how've you been?”

 

“Pretty good! University is tougher than I thought it would be, but it’s also interesting. I just have very little social life these days. And yourself,” Makoto inquired. Sousuke gave one of those half shoulder shrugs while scratching the back of his neck.

 

“Well, I’m slowly getting into the swing of things here. It’s hectic, but it’s a lot nicer than my last job, even if it pays less.” The conversation with Rin slinked back into Makoto’s mind.

 

“The one for your dad’s company,” he blurted out before he could help himself, and he instantly regretted it as a shadow crept over Sousuke’s face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to meddle…”

 

“No, no, it’s ok. I just…. Yeah, the one for my dad’s company. We sort of… I needed to… I needed a change, I guess.” The door opened as two young women entered, heading for the counter, and Sousuke indicated towards them with his thumb. “I gotta…”

 

“Yeah, of course!” Makoto watched his old acquaintance reluctantly turn around and walk back to the counter where the two women were waiting to be served. They were followed by a steady trickle of customers, keeping Sousuke too busy for any more chatting. Picking up the book he had plonked on the table earlier, Makoto intended to make good on his promise to himself about finishing at least one chapter before he headed home. He knew that the moment he laid eyes on his bed, the battle would be lost and he would simply crawl in and not get out again until morning.

 

He hadn't outright lied to Sousuke, university _was_ tough and he _didn't_ have much of a social life these days, that much was true. But he had omitted the apathy, the feelings of inadequacy, the sporadic sleeping patterns, the fatigue and the constant sense of being on the outside looking in. He had failed to mention how his tiny flat was slowly turning into a pig sty from his lack of energy to clean it or even care. He had avoided the fact that he had barely set foot in a pool for a month, and then only because Haru managed to drag him along. And he had left out that he wasn't eating properly half of the time, and most certainly ignored the bit about the empty sake bottle which still lay by the bathtub after that particularly bad evening when he pondered what sights he might see if he held his head under water long enough.

 

A tiny part of him had wanted to, perhaps because no one had bothered to ask him that question in ages, but at the same time every other part of him was shouting at him not to, that he would embarrass himself, that he shouldn't be bothering others with his stupid, insignificant problems. He just needed to get a grip, get his shit together, grow up, stop being a lazy, useless idiot. He managed fine in Iwatobi, there was no reason why he shouldn't be able to do the same in Tokyo. Haru did. Kisumi did. Why couldn't he? _Because you were never as good as them,_ that voice in his head told him, and he knew it was right.

 

He started reading the first paragraph of the chapter for the third time.

 

* * *

 

Makoto had been staring at the same page of his book for almost forty minutes, Sousuke noted. He had also noted that there were only two short paragraphs of text on that page, the other page being filled by a big diagram. It was pretty clear by now that the brain controlling those green eyes was otherwise occupied. Sousuke would have paid good money to know what could possibly distract the former Iwatobi captain so thoroughly. He would have paid good money to know literally anything more about him, admittedly, from his favourite meal, what season he preferred, to more… intimate details. Sousuke took a deep breath and focused grinding the beans for the espresso shot to distract himself from a train of thought that might end in embarrassment.

 

There had been a steady trickle of customers since he talked with Makoto, but it was finally starting to calm down again, the afternoon rush slowly coming to an end, and the end of his shift ticking closer. Pouring steamed milk into the espresso in the take-away cup, and handing it over to the smartly dressed business man waiting for his afternoon fix, he realised the shop was now nearly empty. There were a few customers finishing their drinks, and a young couple putting on their jackets and getting ready to leave. And Makoto, his book, still on the same page, now lying open on the table beneath the notepad he was absentmindedly scribbling on. The matcha was only half finished and probably cold by now, the cinnamon roll barely touched. The sight made something tighten in Sousuke's chest. Closing time was creeping closer by the minute, but the last thing he wanted to do was throw Makoto out, so instead he went about his normal closing preparation routine (and thanked whatever powers that be there were no other customers popping by as he did), and when the clock hit seven, he locked the door. Makoto didn't seem to even register until Sousuke sat down in front of him.

 

“Hey. You okay there,” the barista asked gently, and his guest snapped back into reality, looking around to the realisation that the coffee shop clearly had closed without him notching.

 

“I… I must have spaced out. Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry! You probably want to close up so you can get home! Sorry! Sor-”

 

“Tachibana, it’s okay. It’s okay. Sit down. Please.” Sousuke gestured to the chair Makoto nearly knocked over when he stood up, and the latter took the barista’s encouragement and settled back in the chair. Sitting down in front of him, without other customers serving as distractions, Sousuke got the chance to really _look_ at him. Makoto was still handsome, no doubt, but he looked… _unwell_. He was a little skinnier than Sousuke could remember him, and there were dark rings under his eyes.

 

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep,” Sousuke demanded, “or a proper meal?” Green eyes shot up to meet his teal, wide with surprise, then awkwardly sought out a spot on the table to scrutinise.

 

“Right. That settles it. I’m making you dinner.” Makoto’s gaze met his again, looking on the verge of protest, but Sousuke just waved him off before any objection could be made.

 

“No discussion. My bike’s parked out back. I’ve got an extra helmet. Just let me close shop, and we can head off. My place good?” Looking increasingly flabbergasted, Makoto seemed only capable of nodding, and Sousuke was secretly feeling rather relieved, as he feared his confidence would have crumbled to nothing if his old crush, oh, who was he kidding, his _current_ crush, had argued against his plan. He worked swiftly, all thanks to the preparation work he had been able to do before closing, and finished everything off in record time. In comparison, Makoto was only just tugging his jacket on when Sousuke handed him the extra helmet and motioned for him to tag along through to the backyard behind the coffee shop.

 

He couldn’t help but smile, his bike always had that effect on Sousuke. With sharp angles, high polished silver finish contrasting the matte of the black leather, 4 cylinder engine and electronically adjustable suspension, his Yamaha FJR1300ES was his pride and joy. He had settled for a much less comfortable flat to be able to afford her, and spent a lot of his university savings, but she made it worth it every day. He strode confidently over and mounted her.

 

Makoto was still standing by the door, eyes wide and mouth slightly ajar, and it dawned on Sousuke that the brunette would shortly be sitting behind him on the the bike, body flush against his. He was instantly thankful for the helmet resting in front of his crotch, and hoped the blush he felt spreading from his chest and up to his cheeks wasn't too prominent.

 

* * *

 

The blush on Sousuke's face was blatantly obvious, and Makoto felt bad for gawking at him, even though he found it kinda cute that Sousuke clearly felt self-conscious about how proud he was of his motorcycle, like a five year old with a lightsaber at a show-and-tell. Makoto couldn't blame him. It was a gorgeous bike and it looked like it must have cost a fortune.

 

Sousuke nudged his head backwards, indicating for him to climb on behind him, and Makoto, picking up his dropped jaw, obliged. He couldn’t hide his apprehension, however, as he’d never sat on a motorcycle in his life. The man in front of him told him to put on his helmet and instructed him where to rest his feet, warning him that the exhaust pipe could get very hot and might melt the sole of his shoe if he dipped his heel to far back and got in contact with it.

 

“You might wanna hold onto my jacket before we start moving,” Sousuke added, and with the statistics of traffic accidents flying through his head, Makoto grabbed firmly hold of Sousuke’s waist, leaving any sense of pride in the gutter. Adrenaline filled his veins as the engine roared, and before he could think to say anything, they were already on their way.


	4. Food for Thought

The journey to Sousuke’s apartment wasn’t long, not on the bike at least, and just as Makoto had started to get comfortable and actually began to enjoy the sensation of flying through the city, they’d reached their destination. Having parked and secured the bike, the former butterfly swimmer led him up a few set of stairs and into a tiny studio apartment. There was one room with only one door to what Makoto assumed was the bathroom, and he couldn’t see a bed. There was a small kitchenette with two tall chairs which served as seating at the kitchen counter. Then there was a huge cabinet system covering the entirety of one wall with a built in desk accompanied by a fold-up chair. That was it. _Does he sleep in the bathtub_ , Makoto wondered and started looking for secret doorway. There was room for a bed near the desk, but there was just an empty space there.

 

Ignoring the puzzled expression which surely must have painted Makoto’s face, Sousuke walked past him and pulled a handle on the cabinet. Makoto watched with wonder as a what he thought to be the front of a drawer, revealed itself to be part of a pull-down table, positioned in the empty space. Sousuke then proceeded to pull out two more “drawers”, which turned out to be two box-like seats, the top of which were detachable lids with padding on the other side so that they could be flipped over, providing a slightly more comfortable sitting arrangement. The boxes also functioned as storage compartments. The apartment seemed to be as full of hidden surprises as its owner.

 

“Please, sit down. I’ll start food,” his host offered with a smile that hinted towards a suppressed delight over the wide-eyed reaction of his guest. “Do you want anything to drink while I cook? I've got some cola.” Makoto nodded in response and Sousuke grabbed two cans from the fridge.

 

When Sousuke said a proper meal, he meant business, and Makoto found himself spellbound watching him work. Considering the obvious limitations of the flat he lived in, making katsudon from scratch seemed quite the feat. Sousuke asked about his studies, and the conversation flowed lightly around “safe” topics such as what lectures he enjoyed and which topics he favoured. His host also caught him off guard with unexpected compliments, just small things, like “you’re very eloquent”, and some spoken in mirthful jest, hardly to be taken seriously, like “you’re incredibly charming” and “that’s because you’re so handsome and smart”, but Makoto soaked up each little piece of praise like a dried out sponge. Haru didn’t do compliments, at least not verbal ones, and praise from family felt biased and compulsory. But receiving such kind words from someone like Sousuke, cool, collected and competent Sousuke, felt genuine and validating, satisfying a thirst he hadn’t realised he suffered from.

 

By the time the food was ready, Makoto was surprised to have rediscovered some of the enthusiasm that had led him into University to begin with, along with a small glow of confidence, and it was enough to make him lightheaded. He hadn’t felt happy or excited about anything in so long, and when Sousuke put the bowl in front of him and smiled, he noticed that those teal eyes had regained some of that light they had been missing. His heart swelled an inch at that. Sousuke had single-handedly given him a validation no one had been able to offer since he moved to Tokyo, and to know that somehow he had done something to make Sousuke’s day a little brighter too, felt like a balm to his freshly resuscitated self-esteem.

 

* * *

 

The katsudon was hardly perfect, but Makoto didn’t seem to be much of a critic, and Sousuke was in far too good of a mood to care. He had made Makoto smile, had manage to even lure out a genuinely happy chuckle from him. That alone made his heart soar, and when Makoto only beamed at him as their knees bumped under the table when he sat down across from him, adrenaline pumped through his veins like a drug.

 

He had tried his best to keep his cool, to not seem too interested in his guest, but still offer subtle compliments as their conversation flowed. Instead, he feared that he had ended up nearly interrogating Makoto about his studies and shower him with blatant compliments stripped of any semblance of subtlety. However, his guest had taken it all very gracefully, with his usual sweet manners and that smile to melt the coldest glacier, and Sousuke’s relief was infinite.

 

Makoto offered to help him with the dishes once they had finished their meal, and there was a limit to how many times Sousuke could decline without coming across as rude, so he handed his guest the towel. Occasionally, Makoto’s fingers would brush over his as he handed him something to be dried, and every single accidental touch sent delicious shivers down his spine. He swallowed hard and hoped he wasn’t blushing too much.

 

If he was, Makoto didn’t seem to notice. He had moved on to talk about a movie he wanted to see, and Sousuke tried his best to pay attention, but his gaze kept straying to Makoto’s hands as they dried a bowl, and he fought off thoughts of those hands on his skin. Instead he let his attention fall on the old, orange wrist watch Makoto was still wearing. It was clearly worn, but still ticking, and it showed nearly half past nine. The last train didn’t leave until ten to midnight, but he had an early shift, and Makoto probably had classes.

 

“Uhm, I don’t want to throw you out or anything, but I have an early shift tomorrow and-”

 

“Oh, gosh! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to outstay my welcome! I can leave no-”

 

“Hey! Hey! You haven’t outstayed your welcome! What are you talking about? I’d love it if you could stay longer, I just,” Sousuke paused for a moment, hoping he wasn’t coming on too strong, “I gotta get up inhumanly early tomorrow to open the shop. I can drive you home if you want,” he offered, and watched Makoto’s shoulders relax.

 

“Are you sure? You don’t have to. I mean, I can just take the train…”

 

“Makoto, I really don’t mind. Come on. I’ll drive you home.” Makoto smiled as he set the last clean and dried bowl into the cupboard, and it made Sousuke’s heart skip a beat.

 

* * *

 

The drive was intoxicating, now that Makoto had gotten used to the sensation. The wind in his face as he held tightly onto Sousuke, the blur of traffic around them, the feeling of almost flying. He could see why Sousuke had been keen to drive him home. He too would have used any excuse to take this bike out if it was his. But like all wonderful things, it came to an end far too quickly. They parked outside his building and he got off the bike. They both took their helmets off, and Makoto handed his over to Sousuke, who put it in the storage box on the bike. He made quite the picture, Yamazaki Sousuke on his black and grey motorcycle, like something out of a magazine, Makoto mused.

 

“Thanks. For making me dinner and…” _for making me feel less shit about my life in general,_ he thought, but made do with a second “thanks,” and a lopsided smile.

 

“Pleasure was mine, Makoto,” Sousuke said through one of those confident smiles of his, and then the reality of what he had just said must have hit him, because his confidence vanished and was replaced by the hint of a blush. Makoto couldn’t help but find it kind of sweet.

 

“It’s okay. _Sousuke_ ,” he reassured, and his friend regained some of his former composure.

 

“Uhm, so,” Sousuke started, then cleared his throat before he continued, “that movie you were talking about? I happen to have a copy on my computer. If you’re not busy on Friday, would you like to hang out and watch it?” It was so odd to see the great Yamazaki get awkward, to observe tendrils of uncertainty sneak out from under his self-assured and proud demeanour, small vines of vulnerability sprouting through the cracks of his perfect mask. And it made Makoto feel sort of relieved, to see that even men like Sousuke weren’t always suave and cool, that even he could get nervous. And then he realised that Sousuke had just asked if he wanted to hang out again, and it felt like an explosion of sunshine inside him. To feel wanted and included in something again was like a balm to his wariness.

 

“I’d love to! Hey, uhm, can I have your number? Then I can send you mine and let you know when my lectures are done on Friday.” Sousuke’s show of vulnerability had given Makoto courage, and he surprised himself with the forwardness he had just displayed. It appeared to have taken Sousuke by surprise too, because the man blinked as his mouth fell open, but no sound came out. That made Makoto feel a little adventurous.

 

“What’s this? Mr. Cool Guy Yamazaki Sousuke gets flustered when someone asks for his number?” He gave a mischievous face at Sousuke, and watched in mirthful surprise as the dust of pink on the latter’s cheek turned a dark red, marking Yamazaki Sousuke clearly not so cool anymore.

 

“Only when it’s someone hot,” the barista mumbled under his breath, and the raging blush spread down his neck, his eyes shooting down to the ground, as he clearly hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It was Makoto’s turn to get flustered and his brain temporarily short circuited.

 

 _Sousuke thinks I’m hot. Holy shit!_ **_Sousuke_ ** _thinks_ **_I’m_ ** _hot!_ He was standing frozen, eyes wide, with his phone in his hands, and felt the heat of calloused fingers brushing his as the phone was plucked out of his hands. Having punched in his name and number, Sousuke held out the phone to Makoto’s still unresponsive hands, avoiding eye-contact. Finally deciding to start functioning again, Makoto’s body followed his instructions, taking the phone back and putting it safely into his pocket.

 

“I, uhm, should be heading back.” The owner of that deep voice mounted his bike again, and their eyes met for a short, awkward nod of goodbye before he put the helmet back on and started the engine. Before Makoto could react further, the bike took off, disappearing into the night, leaving him alone, and immensely confused about the entirety of the exchange which had just taken place.


	5. The Kisumi Maneuver

Getting up at 5am was not among Sousuke’s favourite things in the world, and getting up at 5am after three hours of sleep because his mind was going haywire, much less so. He could not think of any point in time where he had felt more in need of a hole in the ground to sink through and disappear from the face of the earth than after last night’s final conversation with Makoto. How he would deal with seeing him again after that was a mystery he had yet to solve, and while he pulled on the plastic gloves before putting the fresh food neatly in the display counter of the coffee shop, he wondered if Kisumi would believe him if he told him that he had gotten in trouble with the Yakuza and had to leave Japan indefinitely.

 

After the food had been carefully positioned in the display, the cash register counted, and the clean dishes were neatly stacked and ready for use behind him, he glanced at the antique clock on the wall to see he still had five minutes before he needed to open the shop. He straightened his apron, finished off the americano he had made for himself earlier, and took out a package of individually wrapped chocolate truffles. With utter care and precision, he stacked them into small pyramids on either side of the cash register and gingerly placed a tiny price tag sign in front of them.

 

Walking towards the door one minute before opening time, he could already spot one of their regulars across the street, huddling under her umbrella. He decided to wait by the door after unlocking it, so that he could hold it open for her as she was about to enter the shop, and she gave him a grateful bow as she slipped inside. September weather was fickle at best, and there was talk of the fourth typhoon of the season coming on sometime next week. Luckily it had not been categorised as very severe, but with the amount of rain and wind building up, Sousuke would not have been surprised if it turned up earlier.

 

The day went by slowly, as the weather kept a lot of people indoors, but the little truffle pyramids were nearly gone by the time Kisumi came in for his shift, and most of the people who came in, had stayed longer and bought more, which at least made up for the low activity to some extent.

 

He smelled Kisumi before he saw him, his peach scented shampoo a soft harbinger of the whirl of pink about to swoop in behind the counter. And swoop he did. _Typhoon season indeed_ , thought Sousuke as his boss went gliding in with the graze and speed of an olympic skater to snatch an espresso cup, then made an elegant turn towards the espresso machine where he promptly stopped and started grinding the coffee beans. He shot a quick wink at Sousuke, one that said _“I’ve got this, you just manage the till for a bit”_ , and grabbed the tamper as he removed the portafilter from the grinder. Sousuke was not one to turn down help, even if there were only two customers in line. By the time he had dialed in the next order, Kisumi was already serving the espresso to the business woman who looked very much in need of it, swearing upon his honour that this was a “god shot” and if it didn’t fix her day, she could have her money back.

 

“I’m not even joking,” he whispered as he prepared the next espresso shot for the macchiato, his violet eyes glittering, “I was half tempted to just drink that shot myself!”

 

“From the looks of it, I hardly think you’re in need of it, though,” Sousuke retorted with a grin. Kisumi simply stuck his tongue out at him, finished the macchiato while Sousuke served the sandwich the customer had ordered with his coffee. As no one else were waiting to be served, Sousuke picked up another package of truffles to restack the pyramids while Kisume cleaned the steam wand and emptied the puck from the portafilter.

 

“So, did you fix things with Makoto?” Kisumi was not know to bother beating around the bush, at least not with Sousuke, who usually appreciated the bluntness. This time, however, it made Sousuke freeze in his place.

 

“I…” He squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy sigh. Letting his hand fall to pick at a peeling sticker on the cash register, he turned reluctantly to Kisumi, who looked ready to receive terrible news.

 

“I took him home and made him dinner.” Sousuke’s words made Kisumi’s concerned look shift to one of cheeky pride with a lopsided smirk and a lift of his left brow.

 

“My, my! See, I knew you could do it! Good bo- why are you looking like that? Did you give him food poisoning or something?” Sousuke sighed again.

 

“No! I drove him home and then I… I asked him over on Friday.” Kisumi met the explaination with exasperated confusion.

 

“And that’s bad how?!”

 

“I think I freaked him out.”

 

“How?!”

 

“I kind of…”

 

“Sousuke!”

 

“I told him I thought he was hot, okay!”

 

“Again, I don’t see how that would be an issue,” his boss stated matter-of-factly.

 

“I don’t think he’s into guys, Kisumi. I think I might have come on too strong and freaked him out. And I didn’t even mean to say it! It just slipped out!” He groaned in frustration, sinking into a crouch, literally hiding behind the counter. He could vaguely hear the door open and just as Kisumi drew in a breath, clearly about to respond, a very familiar voice sounded from the other side of the counter.

 

“Kisumi! Hey! Uhm… is… is So- Y-Yamazaki here?”

 

“Makoto,” Kisumi exclaimed, glancing quickly to the side to catch Sousuke give him a glare of _“don’t you dare”_ and turned back again with an apologetic shrug.

 

“Sorry, he said he was going for lunch. I think you just missed him.”

 

“Oh, good!” The thick relief saturating Makoto’s voice made Sousuke cringe.

 

“Makoto, is there something wrong?”

 

“No,” Makoto assured, but his voice didn’t sound too convincing, “no, I… I don’t know actually. I’m a little bit confused. Is So- Yamazaki… does he usually, like, uhm. Is he... _flirtatious_ with you?” Sousuke’s eyes flew wide open, but they couldn’t catch Kisumi’s gaze.

 

“Oh, sure! We flirt all the time! It’s a nice way to break up all the snark we throw at each other. I guess you could say it’s one of his ways of showing he feels safe in someone’s company,” Kisumi giggled, and a wave of gratitude flowed through Sousuke as he made a mental note to surprise his boss with something really nice in the near future.

 

“Ahahah, okay.” Makoto’s laughter didn’t sound like it had the day before. It sounded a little tight, full of nervous energy, and Sousuke wasn’t sure why. “Cool. I just… I just didn’t want to make any wrong assumptions, and, you know, end up making things awkward.” More nervous laughter, before his voice took a more serious, genuine tone. “He was very kind yesterday. Made me katsudon and everything. I haven’t eaten that well in months! I guess… with both you and Haru so busy, I’ve, I don’t know, missed the company of a friend.” Makoto sighed and then froze. “Oh, gosh, I didn’t mean to imply that you and Haru have been bad friends! I just-”

 

“Mako, it’s fine. I understood what you meant,” Kisumi reassured him, and Sousuke could see his boss wearing that patient smile of his, the one he reserved for children, shy animals and sweet, elderly people. Sousuke could only hear Makoto exhale, but he had no problems imagining the relief that must have been emitting from those green eyes.

 

“Thanks,” the owner of those eyes, breathed, barely loud enough for Sousuke to hear him. “Anyway, I’ve got a lecture soon, but I might as well grab a matcha while I’m here.”

 

“Of course,” Kisumi replied and started making Makoto’s usual order while Sousuke continued to press his back up against the counter, hoping Makoto wouldn’t spot him. His leg nearly cramped up by the time he heard Kisumi say goodbye, and he felt the nudge of the latter’s ankle against his hip, signaling the coast was clear.

 

“ _Flirting_ , are we?” Turning around to face him, Kisumi gave him that famous smirk of his, the one that had men and women falling like flies before him, and even Sousuke couldn’t be submitted to that smirk without his heart fluttering. Mumbling some savoury words, he turned his head away.

 

“Shut up, Kisumi. Like you said, we flirt all the time.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s mostly because I’m flirtatious by nature, and you’ve gotten used to me,” Kisumi pointed out.

 

“Well, Makoto doesn’t need to know that,” Sousuke grumbled.

 

“So you _were_ flirting!”

 

“Damn it! Yes! I.. _flirted_ with him. Happy now?”

 

“Very! When are you seeing him again?”

 

“What?” Called out was an understatement of how Sousuke felt as his boss scrutinised him for any hint of further involvement with the prospect that was Tachibana Makoto. Unfortunately, he knew that there was no hiding stuff like this from Kisumi; he had this uncanny ability to just _know_. So, Sousuke admitted defeat and sighed.

 

“Friday.”

 

“Perfect! What will you be doing?”

 

“Just hanging out at mine and watching a movie. I’ll probably make food. I dunno what yet, though,” he mused, and violet eyes lit up before him.

 

“Green curry. Makoto loves that stuff. He also has a weakness for this imported ginger cider, if you were thinking drinks. He doesn’t get to drink it often, as it’s a bit expensive, but if you can get your hands on it, I know that will make him very happy! Oh, and you should wear that dark green shirt of yours. It hugs you in all the right places and-”

 

“Kisumi! It’s not a date,” Sousuke spluttered.

 

“Of course not,” Kisumi deflected, clearly not caring, “but still, wear the green shirt, seriously.”

 

“I’ll wear whatever I feel like wearing, damn it,” Sousuke huffed, and group of eight people coming in the door heralded the arrival of rush hour.

 

Sousuke decided to wear the green shirt, and only because he felt like it. Truly. He most certainly did not decide to wear a bit of that expensive cologne his mum had given him for his last birthday, and he absolutely did not text Kisumi five times to find out what pair of trousers to wear. His fridge was totally not filled with bottles of European ginger cider, along with the ingredients for a wicked green curry. Not a chance.

 

Wednesday and Thursday had gone by both too slowly and too fast at the same time. Makoto had only been in once and it had happened to be when he wasn’t at work. Kisumi had insisted on giving him the Friday off (Sousuke had in turn insisted on taking an extra shift the week after to make up for it), because he said he’d need to make sure everything was perfect for when Makoto showed up. He hadn’t been this nervous since his competitive swimming days, perhaps not even then. He didn’t even know if Makoto was into guys, and the thought brought panic bubbling up in his stomach. _Shit! What if he’s straight? What if he’s straight and he thinks I’m coming on to him and he freaks out? Am I overdressed? Do I need to tone it down?_ He looked at himself in the mirror. Sure, he cleaned up pretty well, but it didn’t feel over the top or anything. He would usually wear shirts for work, hell, at his former job he had to wear a full suit and tie get-up and in comparison, this looked casual to the point of not even trying. That made him feel better, and he decided to have a can of cola as he waited for the door to buzz.


	6. Nudge

“ Do you like him, Makoto?” 

 

The question appeared innocent enough, but Makoto knew Kisumi well enough to know that he wasn’t just talking about appreciating Sousuke as a friend. And Makoto would be lying if he said that he hadn’t given it any thought. Sousuke was drop dead gorgeous, there was absolutely no other way around that. The man was still as fit as he was back at Samezuka, and he could probably get a modelling job at the snap of his fingers if he wanted to. It only added to his intimidating air and made Makoto, with his loss of muscle from the lack of exercise and the hint of belly fat betraying his poor diet, feel massively self-conscious.

 

“You  _ do _ , don’t you? I can see it by the red tips of your ears, Mako,” Kisumi teased.

 

“Stop it, Kisumi. He’s straight. And I don’t want to mess this up by falling for him, ‘cause I really enjoy hanging out with him.” 

 

“How do you know he’s straight,” Kisumi inquired with a look of puzzlement on his face, craning his neck while he poured the foamed milk into the matcha.

 

“Rin mentioned he had an ex-girlfriend,” Makoto sighed, and his pink-haired friend raised his brows in surprise.

 

“Really? That’s news to me,” he responded, and Makoto felt instantly bad for having mentioned it. If Sousuke hadn’t told Kisumi, it was probably because his ex was a topic he’s rather not discuss.

 

“D-don’t tell him you know! I mean… I don’t think Rin even meant to tell me, so he might not want it to be common knowledge. I think it might have been a bad break-up or something, so just… just don’t bring it up,” he begged, and Kisumi nodded with a frown, handing him his matcha latte.

 

“Of course not, Makoto. I’m just surprised. I could have sw…” His voice trailed off and he fished his phone out of his pocket. He must have gotten a text, as a lopsided smirk curled his lips, and his left brow shot up. Makoto took a sip of his drink while Kisumi responded to the text. His last lecture had been cancelled and he didn’t want to surprise Sousuke by being nearly two hours early, so he had popped by the café instead to pass some time. It being a Friday afternoon before the after-work rush, it was rather quiet, allowing him a to have a proper chat with his friend and to consume far too many cups of matcha. Said friend finished his text and slipped his phone back in his pocket with a content look in his eyes.

 

“Good news,” Makoto asked.

 

“You could say s-” Kisumi’s phone must have gone off again, cause he got it out again, apologising to Makoto for the interruption while he responded again. He didn’t even have the time to put it back in his pocket before Makoto saw it light up again.

 

“I’m really sorry, Makoto, I gotta reply to this,” Kisumi whined, and Makoto waved him off with an “it’s fine, don’t worry about it”. Three texts later, Kisumi seemed to feel confident enough about the conversation being over to put his phone back in his pocket, and turn back to Makoto.

 

“I’m really sorry about that. Just a tiny emergency- No, nothing to worry about! It’s all sorted now. Anyway, back to what we were talking about. Have you considered the possibility that he might be bi or pan?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Sousuke. He might be bi or pansexual, you know.”

 

“Oh. I… I hadn’t… I didn’t think of that. I mean, yeah, that… that could be… I mean, loads of people are, right, and he’s definitely sexual-something...” He could feel a blush crawling up his neck all the way to reignite the tips of his ears, and he groaned in embarrassment, thankful that Rin wasn’t there to see him, ‘cause that crimson menace would have never let him hear the end of it. Kisumi just smirked in that secretive way of his, and patted his shoulder. 

 

“You’ll be fine. Sousuke is a decent person. He would never make you feel bad about it even if he didn’t feel the same way.” Kisumi’s words were surprisingly assuring, and Makoto felt himself relax a little. 

 

“Now, let’s get you ready.” Violet eyes twinkled.

 

“W-what? But, but I  _ am  _ rea-”

 

“I’m not letting you go anywhere with that sweater, Mako,” Kisumi scoffed, tugging at the big, knitted sweater he was wearing over his flannel shirt.

 

“But I-”

 

“No buts, unless it’s Sousuke’s,” Kisumi declared and Makoto didn’t manage to shape a response to that as his mind honed in on the memory of Sousuke’s rear pressed against him on the bike ride three days prior and left him gaping while a pink whirlwind stole into the staff room and back again with impressive speed and swiftness.

 

“Take that abomination off and put this on under your flannel. Yes, you can keep the flannel shirt on, but only if you leave the three top buttons open,” his friend instructed and threw a black tank top at him, pointing at the restroom, silently demanding that Makoto followed orders. Sulking with defeat, he did. One minute later, he exited the restroom, feeling more self-conscious than he had when Gou had convinced him to demonstrate the backstroke topless on stage in front of the entire school in the hope of recruiting more students for the swim team.

 

“Kisumi! This is far too tight! I can’t wear this!” He looked down on on what felt like a bulging belly straining under the skin-tight tank top, and that usual feeling of loathing washed over him.  _ I can’t show myself like this to Sousuke. He’d be disgusted at how much I’ve let myself go. _

 

“What are you talking about, Mako? You look fantastic! I’d take you on a date in a heartbeat if I was Sousuke,” he added and winked, but it only made Makoto feel queasy.

 

“Makoto? What’s wrong? You look like you need to throw up. I mean, that  _ is _ a normal response to being nervous, so-”

 

“I’m not nervous! I just can’t meet Sousuke looking like a stuffed maki roll about to burst!” He didn’t realise how sharp his tone had been until he saw Kisumi’s face twist with worry.

 

“Makoto… Babe… You don’t look like… like that. Seriously, you-”

 

“Look fat.”

 

“Mako, don’t. Don’t you dare. Yes, you’re less fit that you were when you moved to Tokyo, but so fucking what? You are  _ far _ from being even close to overweight, in fact you’ve gotten rather skinny lately, and even if you weren’t, who cares? You’d still be gorgeous and the sweetest, most intelligent person I know.” Makoto was about to protest, but Kisumi cut him off. “Rei doesn’t count. He’s a mutant, I swear.” That made him chuckle in spite of himself, wiping the mist from his eyes with the back of his hand, and his pink-haired friend put his hand on his shoulder.

 

“Listen, you really do look great, ok? Even if you’re not able to see that yourself right now, just take my word for it. You know me, I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t mean it,” Kisumi looked at Makoto’s still uncertain face and added, “which means you are never seeing that sweater again, because the very thought of its existence offends me.” 

 

“Okay, but don’t tell my aunt. It was a present from her,” he replied to that, and was rewarded with a look of shock on the barista’s face.

 

“What did you do to the woman?! Sacrifice her children? Why does she hate you?” This time, Makoto’s laugh was genuine, and it made a very content grin spread on his friend’s face.

 

“Thank you, Kisumi. Really.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, and realised that it was time to leave.

 

“Go get ‘im, tiger,” Kisumi told him with a wink.


	7. Shelter

The door buzzed and Makoto climbed the stairs up to Sousuke’s flat, shaking his big umbrella as he did, feeling a pang of guilt at leaving the stairs all wet. Reaching the top, he turned and saw his host in the doorway, spurring his heartbeat into an insane race. Sousuke’s dark green shirt had a slim fit cut which accentuated his hip to shoulder ratio, and the rolled-up sleeves flashed his toned forearms with the raised veins under tanned skin, making Makoto’s ears heat up in an instant. It didn’t help that Sousuke’s dark denim trousers were tight-fitting in all the right places. _I’m so fucked._

 

“I’ll get you some slippers so you can hang your socks to dry,” his host offered upon spotting Makoto’s soaked socks as he toed off his drenched shoes and folded up the hems of his trousers.

 

“Thank you, I’d really appreciate that,” he awkwardly responded, trying not to gawk at how firm those trousers made Sousuke’s ass look. _So fucked!_

 

“Uhm…” his host hesitated and turned around to face him again, “would you like to borrow a pair of dry trousers too? I’ve got some comfy pj bottoms.” He looked down, and Makoto realised his trousers were damp from the hems, which had started to drip, and nearly up to his knees.

 

“Ah, yeah, that would… thank you. I’d like that.” And then it dawned on him that this would demand that he take off his trousers. He watched Sousuke wander over to one of the many drawers in the wall-covering storage system to grab a pair of simple slippers and a pair of black pj bottoms with bright yellow batman logos. He was about to protest, but as Sousuke handed the items over, he spoke before Makoto could even open his mouth.

 

“You can just change in the bathroom. That way you can hang the wet clothes right up on the towel rack.” He indicated his head towards the door in the narrow hallway, and Makoto’s shoulders sank down in relief.

 

Sousuke’s bathroom was as small, but like the rest of the flat, the interior design made the absolute most of the space available, with tons of smart solutions which even allowed for a small washing machine and a shower cabinet without it feeling cramped. Everything was so neat and tidy, and Makoto thought of his own flat in it’s increasingly unkempt state and shuddered. He’d never be able to invite Sousuke over to his place, at least not without some sort of divine intervention.

 

A smell teased his senses and tore him out of his thoughts as he pulled on the soft pj bottoms and put the slippers on. It was the tantalising smell of Sousuke’s cooking, and he hurriedly hung up his wet clothes so that he could leave the bathroom to investigate what sort of meal his host was kind enough to bless him with. He slid the door to the side and the unmistakable scent of green curry hit his nostrils, making him close his eyes and inhale the delicious aroma.

 

* * *

 

If seeing Makoto take off his green coat to reveal a soft flannel shirt over a very tightly fitting tank top had made Sousuke’s mouth dry within seconds, seeing his guest pad in wearing his batman pj’s with a look of utter delight on his face, made his heart skip a beat and his entire body react instantly. He silently sent a deeply grateful thanks to Kisumi for telling him to wear the tight denim trousers, assuring him that they would hide any potential embarrassing reactions such as his current one a lot better than anything looser or stretchier. It was unbearably tight to the point of painful, but at least it wasn’t obvious. Still, he turned in towards the hob to further hide any signs of his condition.

 

“Are you for real?” Makoto’s voice was full of incredulous wonder.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You’re making green curry! That’s, like, my favourite meal in the world!” Sousuke craned his head to see the child-like excitement on the face of his guest, and he couldn’t help but smirk.

 

“I’ve got some drinks in the fridge. Help yourself,” he offered, and felt his smirk deepen into a big grin as Makoto’s eyes widened at the sight of the ginger cider.

 

“Are these… uh… could I-”

 

“I said to help yourself,” Sousuke repeated. Red tinted the tips of Makoto’s ears, and he reluctantly grabbed a bottle. Finding the bottle opener attached to the end of the counter, he opened it and sat down on one of the tall chairs by the kitchen counter and glanced shyly out of the window.

 

“Oh, wow. The wind is really picking up,” he observed, and as if on cue, said wind provided a howling sound as it ravaged the trees outside. “It was only raining heavily when I was outside.” Makoto went on to tell him how a drain near Sousuke's flat had clogged, nearly flooding part of the street, and Sousuke hummed to confirm he was listening. By the time the food was ready to be served, they, well, mostly Makoto, had talked about the last typhoon, and the wind outside had become increasingly more prominent, the rain being whipped against the window.

 

Makoto helped set the table, now that he knew how it worked, and once the food was served, he dug in like he hadn’t eaten in days. With a sinking feeling, Sousuke realised that might not be far from the truth. While Makoto looked less worn than he had last time he saw him, the student still had the tell-tale signs of someone who hadn’t slept or eaten well for a long time. He wasn’t sure how well received it would be if he asked about it, though, so he just made a mental note about it, and asked Makoto how uni had been since last time.

 

“Pretty good,” was the answer he got, and there was very little about it that was believable. Sousuke frowned.

 

“How about your studies? Finish that chapter,” he asked with a smile that quickly fell as as Makoto grimaced and deflected with a “getting there” and a nervous laugh, finishing his bowl of curry. Sousuke sighed and figured that at this point, he had more to win than to lose from asking.

 

“Makoto?” Green eyes met his. “Are you okay? Like, really okay?” Green eyes widened then blinked and darted away.

 

“I’m fine, I just-”

 

“But you’re not, though,” Sousuke interrupted and grabbed his wrist. Green eyes darted back up to meet teal again, wide and full of fear. Sousuke let his wrist go. “I’m sorry… It just breaks my heart to see you like this. You were always so full of energy and easy smiles and now-”

 

“I should go.” Makoto stood up so abruptly the lid of his seat fell off, and Sousuke’s stomach dropped. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ He felt frozen to the spot, but so it seemed was his guest, the flannel-clad chest rising and falling as rapidly as his own, and green eyes seeking refuge in the empty bowl on the table, hands shaking.

 

His body finally responding, Sousuke slowly rose from his seat, and the action spurred Makoto to life again. He watched his guest turn away and felt panic rise in his chest.

 

“M-Makoto. I’m sorry. I… You don’t have to talk about it. Just…” he sighed, desperately staving off the panic trying to bubble up to make his voice wobble. “Please don’t leave.” Makoto stopped.

 

* * *

 

His insides were in as much turmoil as the wind howling outside, but Sousuke’s voice made him pause. It was not his host's normal voice, it felt smaller, more vulnerable, pleading. He blinked several times to chase away the prickling sensation in his eyes, swallowed hard to steady his voice and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head to look down at it on reflex. The hand retracted apologetically, its owner looking crestfallen. He felt instantly guilty, and the prickling behind his eyes made an uncomfortable come-back.

 

“Makoto…” Sousuke’s voice was soft, softer than he had ever heard it, “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot or to hurt you. I just… I don’t want you to feel down. You’re such a nice person, and you deserve to be happy.” And that broke the dam, salty water trickling down his cheeks, ignoring his desperate blinking, his throat tightening with the threat of a sob. The hand was back on his shoulder again, and this time it was firm, certain, drawing into a gentle hug, arms wrapping protectively around his shaking shoulders. The material of Sousuke’s shirt was soft as suede and darkened instantly as it soaked up tears. Makoto leaned into the embrace and as a hand tenderly stroked his hair, he fell apart, sobs rasping their way through him. He clutched Sousuke’s biceps, and Sousuke reciprocated with a reassuring squeeze, right hand rubbing soothing circles into his neck. The storm didn’t exist in the shelter of those strong arms, the sound of a heartbeat being his only focus. A heartbeat which stood in stark contrast to Sousuke’s calm demeanor. Makoto’s tears ceased as he let all his attention turn to the man embracing him. Sousuke’s heart was positively racing, his breath struggling to keep steady, the palm against his neck felt somewhat sweaty, and… _oh…_ He wasn’t sure if it was just Sousuke’s trousers being stiff, because they were too tight to tell for certain, but it felt like a new kind of tension had arisen between them. Suddenly, the smell of cologne and the hardness of Sousuke’s chest, the tensing of his biceps under Makoto’s fingers, and the hot breath on his neck became very acute. If Sousuke wasn’t hard, Makoto certainly made up for it, and heated embarrassment rushed through his veins to decorate his face and ears. Then the sound of a mobile ringing startled them both, breaking them awkwardly apart.

 

* * *

 

The ringing felt like a blessing from some benign deity. Sousuke’s heart was racing and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hide how his body reacted to having Makoto in his arms like that, the scent of his sandalwood shampoo in his nostrils. Makoto’s body flush against his and clearly _reacting._ At the same time Sousuke was so annoyed at the interruption that the “unknown number” lighting up on the screen didn’t activate his usual wariness; he was too busy mourning the loss of Makoto’s heat. He ripped the phone out of his pocket and growled.

 

“What!”

 

_“Hey, baby. I’ve missed you.”_


	8. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Buy me a Ko-Fi](https://Ko-fi.com/ingridbeast%C2%A0)

All colour drained from Sousuke’s face and he looked unsteady on his feet.

 

“Asuka…” His voice was little more than a breath. Makoto could just barely hear a female voice on the line, and watched a muscle twitch in Sousuke’s jaw.

 

“Don’t. Call me. That.” The expression on his face had gone from shock to cold rage. “In fact, don’t fucking call me at all.” The voice on the other end exclaimed something, and the cold rage turned hot.

 

“How did you get my number,” he asked tightly, hands clenching into fists.

 

“You what?!” His eyes widened as he shouted. There was a pause as he listened, and the expression on his face gradually turned from fury to disbelief. “What? You wouldn’t…” It was like watching the slow collapse of Sousuke’s entire being and he sank down to the floor, back steadying his swaying form against the wall.

 

“Asuka, please... don't...” The desperation saturating his voice was so foreign, so unlike the powerful and cool Yamazaki Sousuke, whose arms had held Makoto like an anchor in a storm only moments ago. Watching fear mix with the desperation, Makoto stood rooted to the floor in confusion. Sousuke squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose in surrender.

 

“What do you want?” It was barely a whisper and it way followed by a shaky exhale. His fingers left the bridge of his nose to rake through his hair and come to a stop at the back of his head, clutching at his neck.

 

Seconds passed, but they felt like minutes, and Makoto could see Sousuke’s eyes dart around the floor as if in search of some sort of answer to his plight. Rin’s words rang in his head again. _His ex-girlfriend is a piece of work._ Makoto felt his legs move him forward, slowly but with determination. Knees bent to bring him down on the floor, and he raised his hand, letting it come to rest on Sousuke's upper arm, squeezing it gently. Teal eyes met green with such an overwhelming sense of helplessness, there was nothing in the world that could have stopped Makoto from grabbing Sousuke’s free hand, clutching it tightly and lean closer in.

 

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly, and though the words were simple, Sousuke looked like he had been tossed an unexpected lifeline, shocked, but never the less eager to cling onto it for dear life, a spark of determination lighting him up.

 

“That’s right. I’m here if you need me,” he assured, and the spark grew.

 

* * *

 

Sousuke had been there before, and it didn’t end well. In fact, he realised, it hadn’t ended at all, and that was, perhaps, why he found himself in his current situation. He had been running away from his problems rather than tackling them head-on, and now they were coming back to bite him in the ass.

 

He knew she could wreak havoc on him, hell, she already had. One year with her had already done some pretty irreparable damage, and he couldn’t allow her to weasel her way back into his life to pick up where she left off. But even now, even after all of it, he still felt sorry for her, still wished that he could have changed her, healed her wounds. Fixed her.

 

_“You can’t fix someone who doesn’t want help, who doesn’t even realise they need it, Sou!”_

 

_“She’s lashing out because she’s hurt, Gou. That’s all.”_

 

_“She’s lashing out on you. I know you would never raise a hand on her, even in self-defense, and I love you for that, Sousuke, I really do, but-”_

 

_“I can take it. I’ve dealt with worse bruises-”_

 

_“Sousuke! I get that, but listen to me! That’s not the point! The point is that you deserve to not have to deal with it! You deserve someone who would never do that to you, someone who doesn’t insist on keeping you under constant surveillance just because they’re insecure! Someone who doesn’t force you to go behind her back to meet your friends because she can’t deal with you having anyone but her in your life! You deserve someone who needs you because they love you, instead of loving you just because they need what you can give them. I wouldn’t even call that love. It’s dependency more than anything else. Sou… You were always like a big brother to me when Rin was away, and you were always there when I needed you. Please, let me be there for you now.”_

 

He remembered the conversation like it happened yesterday. Remembered the feeling of his lip splitting when Asuka found out he had been in contact with his best friend’s little sister. The accusations of having cheated on her. The emotional manipulation and guilt tripping that nearly had him delete Gou’s number, and the following silent treatment which in turn led to him keeping it. But he also remembered the soft moments early on in the relationship, when Asuka would curl into his arms, telling him he made her feel safe, when she would let him wipe her tears and smiled at him as if he had made everything better in that one swift movement.

 

“I said _you_ , baby. I just want you. I… I need you.” Her voice sounded so frail over the phone, and it was like a knife being twisted in his guts. And then he felt Makoto’s hand on his shoulder, met the green of his eyes, and he felt like he had been pulled up from murky waters.

 

“I’ve got you.” Makoto’s voice filled him with small tendrils of hope.

 

“That’s right. I’m here if you need me,” the object of his undivided affection assured, and those tendrils grew thicker, taking root inside him. And a word took shape in his mind, rushed up his throat and sprinted across his tongue to leap of his lips.

 

“No.”

 

It was as if he could hear her demeanor crack apart as he formed the word of rejection with his mouth, and her poisonous side slithering out as her voice changed.

 

“Don’t force my hand, Sousuke,” she threatened, dripping with venom, and each drop solidified Sousuke’s resolve. “It would be awful if your father found out that his son is-”

 

“Goodbye, Asuka. Don’t call me again.” He hung up on her, and it dawned on him only then how tense he had been. His entire body shook from the exertion and he leaned limply back against the wall. He felt like crying, so he laughed.


	9. Old Wounds

Makoto looked at him in utter confusion, hand still in his.

 

“Sousuke? Why… why are you laughing?” Sousuke looked up at him, a wry, bitter smile on his lips and sighed heavily.

 

“Because,” he paused and took a deep breath, “I’m so screwed right now.”

 

“Do you, uhm, wanna talk about it? I mean, you don't have to! Just, you know, if you need someone to listen, or something…” Makoto’s voice trailed off as he looked down on their hands, still clutching. The urge to pull him in and kiss him flooded through Sousuke's veins, but he pushed it aside. Did he want to talk about how Asuka was very liable to make good on her threats, that he might end up disowned and homeless if she did? Most definitely not. But Makoto had this… _thing_ about him, making him say a lot of things he hadn’t planned to, and the words slipped out of from between his lips before he could close them.

 

“It’s my ex, Asuka. She’s...she’s trying to blackmail me into seeing her again.” It all just tumbled out of him, and once he started talking, he couldn’t stop. “I’m not giving in to it. Not this time, anyway. But it might have some pretty uncomfortable consequences.” He couldn’t look him in the eye, but he heard Makoto make an acknowledging noise, encouraging him to go on.

 

“My dad’s the guarantor for my flat. I only got a short term lease to begin with, as he refused to bind himself to a long term contract, should I end up without a job that pays enough for rent. The tenancy contract runs out at midterms, so I’ll need to renew it then. Problem is, if Asuka makes good on her threat, and knowing her, I wouldn’t put it past her, my dad is more likely to disown me than to sign the new contract as my guarantor. If that happens, then…”

 

“You’ll have nowhere to live when the next term begins,” Makoto finished for him, and Sousuke reluctantly met his eyes, feeling more naked than he ever felt when swimming. He couldn’t hold their gaze and let his eyes flit back to study the floor.

 

“Why would he disown you? I can’t imagine you doing anything so bad it would warrant that kind of reaction. Is there anything you can do to make it right?” Sousuke merely shook his head at Makoto’s questions. _I guess now is as good a time as any to tell him,_ he mused.

 

“I’m…” He drew a shaky breath. “I’m gay, Makoto.” His words hung in the air, and he didn’t dare look at Makoto’s face again, in fear of what he might find.

 

“Oh… I see.” His guest craned his head and his face was swimming with confusion and something else. Surprise? Disappointment? Disgust…? The words hung in the air for several seconds like a thick, silent fog, and Sousuke was sure that this was it. _This is when he’ll find an excuse to leave, delete my phone number and avoid me for the rest of his life,_ he thought darkly. But more seconds passed and Makoto hadn’t moved.

 

“Look, if that makes you uncomfortable, you don’t have to stay. I won’t get angry or anyth…” His voice trailed off as he looked up to find Makoto smiling softly at him.

 

“I'm not going anywhere, Sousuke,” Makoto whispered. “Thank you for telling me.”

 

Sousuke felt like laughing, so he cried. He didn’t mean to, but those treacherous tears just filled his eyes, quite rudely without his approval, creating small, wet trails down his cheeks. He only realised they were still holding hands when Makoto squeezed it. In any other person’s company, Sousuke might have felt embarrassed, but the still damp spots on his shirt were a calming reminder that the situation had been somewhat flipped just minutes ago. The fact that Makoto had felt safe enough in his company to show that kind of vulnerability, made him feel safe to do the same in return.

 

“I’ve never…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve never told anyone. Asuka found out, but I never told her myself. I never even told Rin or Gou. I think they know, but I’ve never actually said the words.” He wiped his face and Makoto gave him a lopsided smile.

 

“It can be pretty intense. It was for me when I told Haru.” Sousuke breathed in sharply. _Wait, what? Is he… did he just come out to me as well?_

 

“I was so nervous,” Makoto continued, leaving Sousuke’s heart pounding at the confirmation of his suspicion. He listened intently to Makoto’s gentle voice.

 

“And then Haru just smiled and gave me a look that said he had probably know for longer than I had. And then he asked if I wanted fried mackerel.” There was a pause and then they both burst out in laughter, because that was such a Haru thing to do. Sousuke couldn’t imagine anyone else in the world who would counter the words ‘I’m gay’ with an offer of mackerel.

 

* * *

 

It had been heartbreaking to see Sousuke cry, especially knowing the fear of family rejection so well himself. Makoto remembered how he nearly had a panic attack when he sat down with his parents to tell them, how breathing had suddenly become hard through his tight throat. And then his mother had embraced him and told him to listen to her breath, and that there was nothing in the world that would make her or his dad stop loving him. And the words had slipped out, and his dad had joined the embrace as well, praising him for being brave, and all his fear and anxiety turned into tears of happiness. That was probably the day Makoto realised how privileged and lucky he was, and he swore he would never forget it.

 

It had turned out that his parents had thought him and Haru were together, and that _that_ was the topic of the discussion. Makoto had assured them that while he loved Haru with all his heart, his feelings for Haru were that of a brother, a twin, the Ren to his Ran. In return, they had assured him that they would remain supportive, regardless of who he loved and how he loved, that his happiness was the most important thing for them.

 

Seeing Sousuke in anguish over the certainty that such an unconditional love and support from his family was as unlikely as tattoo parlour in an onsen, was unbearable, and he would do anything to remedy it. So, when Sousuke finally laughed, genuinely, mirthfully this time, it felt intoxicating, and Makoto mused that if he could hear Sousuke laugh every day of his life, that would be a life worth living.

 

“Come on. Let’s get off the floor, shall we?” He scrambled to his feet, his hand never letting go of Sousuke’s, and pulled his still chuckling host up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	10. Makotoo much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this finished a lot sooner than I had expected!

They cleared the table fairly quickly, Sousuke being given a rendition of how Nagisa had done a mini Pride parade with a crayon coloured paper pride flag when Makoto came out to him and Rei, describing with great detail how Nagisa had nearly given the latter a heart attack in his effort to scramble around his house for the materials to create said flag, and proclaiming that his gay aunt would be very proud. And as embarrassing it had been at the time, it had made Makoto feel both safer and more accepted, knowing that his friends embraced him for who he was, celebrating it even. He wished Sousuke could have had a Nagisa Pride parade in his life, and stole a glance at his host swiftly rinsing the dishes and stacking them in the sink. It dawned on him just how invested in Sousuke’s well-being he had become in such a short time, and a swarm of butterflies manifested in his stomach.

 

“So, film?” Makoto nodded in response, and Sousuke walked over to the table, putting it back up again before pulling another handle which solved the riddle of Sousuke’s sleeping arrangement as a queen-sized bed was lowered to the floor in the space where the table had stood. 

 

“I don’t really have room for a couch, so I hope it’s ok if we just use the bed,” Sousuke explained.

 

“Of course.” Makoto’s mouth was dry.  _ I’m going to be in the same bed as Sousuke. Shit! Get a grip! It’s only to watch a movie. It’s not like anything is going to happen! But, oh my gosh, what if something happens! In his BED!  _ He didn’t even need the tell-tale prickling up his neck to know his ears were bright red by now, along with his cheeks. Sousuke was gracious enough to not comment on it, so Makoto grabbed some more drinks from the fridge, allowing him to turn away for a moment to let the worst of his blush calm down before he joined Sousuke on the bed.

 

* * *

 

Makoto was blushing and Sousuke prayed to all the powers that be that he could keep it together. Just because Makoto was gay too didn’t mean he was into him.  _ Why would he be? He’s intelligent, sweet-natured, generous, more handsome that he can possibly be aware of and even taller than he used to be during high school. He could have anyone, so why on earth would he settle for a failure like me? _ Sousuke watched his guest grab another drink from the fridge and pretended to fiddle with his laptop as Makoto turned around and approached the bed. 

 

There was enough space for them both to sit comfortably leaned up against the wall, a pile of pillows behind them, his soft, teal bedspread beneath them. However, the laptop was balanced on Sousuke’s left thigh and Makoto’s right, so that both of them could see the screen properly, and it forced them to sit closer together. Not that Sousuke minded. But he found it very hard to focus on the movie, especially when Makoto put on his glasses. And the cider had started to affect him, even if he refused to admit it. Halfway through the movie, it became unbearable. He desperately needed to sort himself out, his trousers feeling intolerably tigh, the heat from Makoto’s body flush against his left side. Making a lame excuse about needing the restroom, he shuffled off the bed while Makoto paused the movie (even though Sousuke had told him he had already seen it) and headed to the bathroom.

 

Resting his hands against the sink, he took a deep breath. Then he felt the buzz of a message on his phone, and fished it out of his pocket. 

 

**From Kisumi:** Hey! How’s the date going?

 

Sousuke sighed. He had never told Kisumi that he was gay, his boss had just assumed, and considering the pink-haired menace was an openly raging pansexual, he never really saw the point in masking it, but he had never confirmed it either. He realised he hadn’t mentioned Kisumi as someone being in the know to Makoto, and instantly felt a little bad about it. He hadn’t exactly lied, but he also suspected that he subconsciously had let Kisumi out as he was in close contact with them both on a regular basis, which made him feel guilty about the omission nonetheless. He stared down at the message. He could pull his usual ‘it’s not a date’, but having just come out to Makoto, he figured he had already thrown himself into the deep end, so he might as well let Kisumi know as well.

 

**To Kisumi:** I came out to him. I told him I was gay, and he didn’t freak out. So that’s a good start, right?

 

He pressed send and it took less than a minute before another message ticked in.

 

**From Kisumi:** I’m so proud of you! *smooches* That is definitely a good start!

 

Sousuke huffed a small, silent chuckle, relieved that Kisumi didn’t call him out on the date thing, and he found himself tapping out another message.

 

**To Kisumi:** He’s driving me crazy, tho! He’s wearing this tight tank top under his flannel shirt and he put on his glasses when we sat down to watch the movie, and I can’t deal! I’m having a time-out in the bathroom, cause I don’t know what to do!

 

**From Kisumi:** Kiss him.

 

The message ticked in less than ten seconds after Sousuke had sent his, and he stared at it, breath held for a moment before he let it out shakily. It was just two small words, but the implications they carried were tremendous.

 

**To Kisumi:** I can’t just go back out there and kiss him out of the blue!

 

The next response took a little longer, but not much.

 

**From Kisumi:** Then ask him. Tell him how he’s driving you crazy and making you want to kiss him.

 

Just the thought of following Kisumi’s advice was making Sousuke’s palms sweaty. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to follow it, quite the opposite, he wanted to so badly, and it terrified him. 

 

**To Kisumi:** What if he turns me down?

 

**From Kisumi:** He won’t.

 

**To Kisumi:** How do you know that?!

 

**From Kisumi:** Trust me. He won’t. I was right about the green shirt, so trust me on this, okay?

 

Sousuke frowned. _How the hell does Kisumi know I'm wearing the green shirt?_ _ I swear, my boss is psychic.  _

 

**To Kisumi:** Okay.

 

With another deep breath, Sousuke opened the door and walked back out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	11. Doubts

The moment Sousuke closed the bathroom door, Makoto grabbed his phone and texted Kisumi.

 

 **To Kisumi:** Help! He’s so freaking hot! And he’s been sitting right next to me! On his bed! His bed, Kisumi! Like, our thighs have been flush against each other, and gods, he smells so good! And he’s wearing this green shirt which just hugs him in ALL the right places, and those jeans of his just, omg, he has the hottest ass in history, Kisumi! And he lent me his pj bottoms! I’m wearing his pj bottoms, Kisumi! In his bed! HELP!!!

 

The two minutes it took for Kisumi to respond was excruciating.

 

 **From Kisumi:** Calm down. Breathe.

 

 _Two minutes for that!?_ Makoto frowned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

 

 **To Kisumi:** That’s the problem! I can’t keep calm! Not when he’s sitting so close! Gosh, he’s so GOOD, Kisumi! He made me green curry! And he even got me those ginger ciders! I don’t even remember telling him I like them! I’m crushing so hard, I don’t know what to do with myself!

 

 **From Kisumi:** Kiss him.

 

Makoto looked at the text with wide eyes.

 

 **To Kisumi:** Are you insane!? There’s no way he’s into me! He’s freaking perfect! He could have anyone!

 

 **From Kisumi:** And who did he choose to spend his day off work with?

 

 **To Kisumi:** Well, that doesn’t mean he’s into me!

 

 **From Kisumi:** Makoto, you need to have more faith in yourself. You’re a fucking catch, okay? And if Sousuke is in any way so inclined, he knows that. Give yourself some credit. And if you can’t, then take my word for it. Trust me, okay?

 

Makoto texted him back with an ‘okay’ that he didn’t really put his heart into. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Kisumi, he just couldn’t see himself as a ‘catch’. He was too much of a burden to ever be a ‘catch’ for anyone, too plain, too fat, too boring, too lazy, too cowardly, the list went on. He put the phone back on the storage box which now, with the lid flipped back, served as a night stand. That familiar, unwelcome darkness which always seemed to linger at the back of his mind had taken the front seat, and all of the excitement he had felt when Sousuke left had evaporated, leaving him feeling numb. He hardly even noticed the bathroom door opening again.

 

Sousuke had walked over, and Makoto hadn't dared to look up, even as the other took the laptop and placed it on the other box-turned-nightstand. He didn't shift his gaze even as he felt the bed dip as Sousuke joined him on the bed again, wearing a strange expression.

 

“Makoto. Can I…” Sousuke trailed off, as if he was re-evaluating his words. “Can I get you another drink?” Makoto felt very certain that this was not the question he had initially planned to ask, but let it pass.

 

“Sure, I’d love that,” he responded with lukewarm enthusiasm.

 

* * *

 

Silently cursing, Sousuke got up again and walked over to the fridge, fetching two more bottles of cider. He had mustered up all his courage to take Kisumi’s advice, and then one look at Makoto’s face had made him falter. Maybe Kisumi was right, but in that moment, Makoto wore the expression of someone who’s mind was preoccupied with deeply unpleasant things, and whatever was the cause of that distress, Sousuke refused to leave it unaddressed. So he pushed his own wants aside and walked back to the bed with determination. He had scratched the surface earlier, but before he had the chance to actually talk about it, Asuka’s phone call had ruined that opportunity. Opening the bottle, he offered it to Makoto, feeling fingertips brush ever so slightly against his own, but instead of letting the bottle go, he held on to it.

 

“You ready to talk about it?”

 

Makoto went pale in a matter of seconds. He spluttered a tossed salad of words which together might have meant something like ‘talk about what’ or ‘what do you mean’, but Sousuke held firm.

 

“About whatever it is that’s causing you to not eat or sleep properly. Have you spoken to your doctor about it?” Makoto shook his head in response to Sousuke’s inquiry, and the latter continued, finally letting the bottle go.

 

“I’m in no way qualified to give you a diagnosis, but I don’t need to be a doctor to see that something is wrong. You’re having trouble focusing, right?” Makoto looked like he was about to deny it, but when his eyes met Sousuke’s, he reluctantly whispered an affirmative. Sousuke sat down.

 

“Look, only someone professional can really pinpoint it for sure, but I’ve seen the symptoms of depression enough times to recognise them. I’m not saying that’s what it is, but you’re showing some of the typical signs. It could just be something as minor as a vitamin deficiency, but it could also be something more serious. Regardless, wouldn’t you feel better if you knew what it was and how to deal with it?” Sousuke let Makoto take his time. He remembered when Rin was going through a minor depression after moving back to Australia. Having just rediscovered his friendship with the Iwatobi’s, Rin had plummeted into severe homesickness and melancholy in the wake of having to leave them all behind again. It had been a tough few weeks, and the two of them had nearly fallen out over arguments about seeing someone professional to help Rin deal with it. Sousuke wouldn’t make the mistake of pushing things too hard this time. Makoto had to make the decision on his own. All Sousuke needed to do was to make him aware that there was such an alternative.

 

* * *

 

It was all rather overwhelming. When Sousuke started talking, Makoto had expected some speech about getting his shit together, which was what he told himself every day, and then Sousuke marched directly into the opposite direction. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that this wasn’t just him being lazy and useless, that it could actually be something that wasn’t his fault. At the same time, there was this gnawing notion in the back of his head telling him that he should be able to deal with this himself, that he shouldn’t have to need help with something as trivial as feeding himself and getting out of bed and dressed in the mornings. The notion tasted of bile and self-loathing. He took a big sip out of the bottle to wash it all down before he placed it beside his phone on top of the nightstand.

 

“I…” That was all he managed to say at first, eyes locked on the soft teal of Sousuke’s bedcover. “I haven’t… I mean, it’s stupid. I just need to get a grip and stop being so messy and lazy and-”

 

* * *

 

Hearing those words from Makoto’s lips felt painful. Because it was words Sousuke had held on to himself, like a prayer. Well, more like self-flagellation, really, now that he thought about it. It had been a leash, a destructive prison which had kept him from getting better, from getting help. And it had landed him with a shoulder which still caused him trouble on bad days. He refused to listen to those words, let alone from someone as undeserving of them as Makoto.

 

“No. Makoto, no. People who struggle with mental health issues are not lazy. It’s not just a matter of ‘getting a grip’, it’s a matter of getting the right sort of help, the right sort of tools to tackle it with. Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, it’s not admitting defeat. It’s actually a victory.” Sousuke looked at him and saw the uncertainty in those green eyes.

 

“Look, I know it’s hard reaching out, ok? It’s something I’ve never been good at myself, and I’m not here to lecture you. I just… I wanna help you.” Green eyes widened. “I wanna hear you laugh.” Pink dusted cheeks beneath olive locks of hair. “I wanna see that beautiful smile on your face again.” Sousuke tilted his head, and inched closer. “I want you to be happy.” They were so close now that he could feel Makoto’s breath, hear it hitch. “I wanna…” _Kiss you._ He looked down, unable to finish the sentence. If would feel like he has taking advantage of the situation. He sighed, mumbling a 'sorry'. 

  
Two fingers pressed against his mouth, and he looked up to see Makoto seemingly as surprised by himself as Sousuke was. Then he realised. _Makoto’s fingers are on my lips. Makoto is touching my lips._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	12. Hurricane

His fingers were on Sousuke’s lips. Sousuke’s surprisingly soft lips. And in that moment those lips were the only relevant things in existence. He let his fingers glide over them, tenderly trailing towards the corner of Sousuke’s mouth, only to proceed along his cheek, cupping it. To his surprise, Sousuke leaned into the touch, causing the thumb to slip back to meet warm lips again. A thousand butterflies burst to life in his belly. Tearing his eyes away from those soft lips, it dawned on Makoto that that his own were parted, allowing his now shaky breath through with ease, and that Sousuke was watching him intently. Taking what felt like one of the biggest chances of his life, Makoto leaned in, and felt lightheaded when Sousuke followed suit.

 

Their lips met tentatively, brushing against each other, then more insistently as Sousuke hand slid behind Makoto’s head, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. He felt a tongue trace his upper lip, as if asking for permission to enter, and Makoto happily granted it, his pulse racing as Sousuke’s tongue slid in to meet his. There was a shuffle as Sousuke repositioned himself on the bed, back against the wall, and snaked his arm around Makoto’s waist, tugging at him. He followed the tug, finding himself straddled over the other’s lap, the kiss deepening further, making him moan into it, fisting his hands in the dark green shirt.

 

He wasn't sure what had led him to put his fingers on Sousuke's mouth to begin with. Perhaps it was because all those compliments and sweet words just became too unbearable. Perhaps it was the alcohol which had definitely started to affect him. Or perhaps it was because he had been dreaming of those lips every day since his last visit. As fingers gently gripped a good handful of his hair, and a hand slipped under his flannel shirt and tank top to touch the feverish skin on the small of his back, Makoto found that he really couldn't care less.

 

His thoughts all melted away until all that filled his mind was the taste of ginger and Sousuke. He rolled his hips, subconsciously craving the sweet friction it brought, and Sousuke groaned beneath him, the grip tightening in his hair. The hand which had explored his back, rubbing circles into his skin as it ventured up between his shoulder blades, swiftly slid down to firmly grip his hip, thumb teasing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. So, he repeated the motion, grinding against Sousuke's now very unmistakable erection. They broke apart, both gasping for air, but reluctant to let their lips stray too far away from the other’s.

 

“Makoto…” Sousuke’s voice was thick and raw, and reverberated in Makoto’s ears like the rumble of an earthquake.

 

* * *

 

Trying to resist the urge to flip them both over on the bed so he could grind Makoto into it was a test of self-control unlike any other Sousuke had been subjected to. Just breaking away from Makoto’s lips felt like he was being taken off life-support, but he knew he had to stop, as much as he wanted to just give in.

 

“Makoto,” he repeated, trying his best to string coherent sentences together in his head.

 

“We… I can't…” He caught the flicker of hurt in Makoto’s eyes and felt panic rise in his chest.

 

“No, not like that! Believe me, there is nothing I would rather do right now than to rip off all your clothes and fuck you senseless.” He paused as the object of his affection blushed more than he thought possible.

 

“Then why don't you,” said object of affection whispered, eyes refusing to meet his.

 

“Because I… I need to know what this is first. I need to know what… what _we_ are first. Do you want us to be exclusive from now on, or is this a one time thing? Friends with benefits?” Green eyes finally met his, wide and uncertain, but there was no response coming from the parted lips below them.

 

“I don't want anyone to feel hurt,” he continued, nervous now, “or like they're being taken advantage of, you know… ”

 

“O-of course. We can be… uhm… keep it casual, if you like,” Makoto swallowed, and Sousuke’s stomach dropped. _Of course. He's not into me. He just needed *someone* and I happened to be here._ Sousuke had been so worried about Makoto feeling like he was being taken advantage of in a vulnerable situation, he hadn't considered how to deal with the possibility of Makoto taking advantage of him. So he smiled nervously, trying to buy some time to compose himself and fight the prickling sensation in his eyes.

 

He could tell Makoto the truth, that he wanted more, that he wanted a relationship, and deal with the fallout when Makoto told him he couldn't give him that. Or he could pretend that he just wanted a fuck-buddy too. Then, at least, he could have some semblance of closeness to the guy he had been crushing on for years. But he would only be postponing and prolonging the pain, giving himself a false hope of more every time and drag out the process of reaching the inevitable conclusion that he would never have the relationship he craved. Better to stop it now, to rip the band aid off quickly, so he could start healing.

 

“I can't do that. I'm sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Makoto felt like he was crumbling from the inside. He had felt the cracks beginning when Sousuke made it clear what he wanted. He hadn't said those exact words, of course, but it was the only way Makoto could make sense of it. So he had clung on to the hope that perhaps if they were friends with benefits, there was a chance it might develop into something more from there. But those six words crushed that hope, and now his world seemed to be falling apart, his mind diving down towards that familiar black abyss of self-loathing and hopelessness.

 

How the hell did he imagine Sousuke would want anything else from him than a one-night stand? Who would? The fact that someone would want to fuck him at all was a freaking miracle in itself. He should be happy with whatever anyone would be willing to give him. He couldn't blame Sousuke for not wanting to settle for something less than he deserved. He refused to cry. He forced himself to put on his usually ‘I'm fine’ smile. It was hardly the first time he had buried his feelings, and he had only gotten better at it over the years.

 

“I see. I guess we'll just have to make the most out of tonight, then.” He flashed a flirty smile and leaned in to recapture Sousuke's lips. At least one night was better than nothing.

 

“What? No! Makoto, please! I-I can't!” Sousuke's words left him confused and hurt.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Look, I can't be casual with you because it would hurt too much. And a one-night stand would hurt even more.” _Hurt? What is he talking about?_

 

“Makoto, I... I've had a crush on you since our first joint practice at Samezuka.” Sousuke’s gaze rested firmly on Makoto’s chest, as if he was afraid of what he might see if their eyes met, and a flush was creeping up his neck and making blotched red patterns on his cheeks. “So if you don’t want any strings attached, then I can’t give you what you need, because I would always be hoping for more, and it would slowly kill me to have that hope crushed over and over again.” His teal eyes turned glossy and Makoto’s chest ached for him.

 

“Sousuke. I don’t want a one-night stand. I don’t want us to be friends with benefits. I want more. I…” _Deep breaths, Makoto._ “I wanna be with you. Exclusively.” Teal eyes shot up to meet his, full of confusion and unspoken questions.

 

“I-I just… I thought _you_ didn’t want any strings attached, and I guess I figured I’d rather have something with you than nothing.” He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed over his own idiocy, as Sousuke stared at him with wide eyes, blinking. Then he smiled, and bit his lower lip, making Makoto crumble in a very different and delicious way, before he ran his hands slowly up Makoto’s thighs, letting them rest as they reached his hips.

 

“So… do you wanna be my boyfriend?” There was an shyness about Sousuke as he spoke those words, a sort of nervous sincerity that Makoto had never seen from him before, like this part of him was just for Makoto and no one else. He was nodding before he answered Sousuke's question, his throat too thick with emotion to facilitate a quick response. And when he finally did, his ‘yes’ was broken and fragile, but Sousuke soared up to kiss all his worries away, and the typhoon outside was no match to the hurricane of happiness that welled up inside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	13. Morning Sanctuary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait! It's been very busy lately, and I've been receiving more work (which is great for my wallet, but not so much for my writing time). Anyway, have some SouMako fluff!
> 
> This chapter is for Georgia, (@GLFlayART), because I really wish she had someone like Sousuke to take care of her right now, the way he takes care of Makoto.

Small patches of sunlight filtered through leaves played on Sousuke’s face when he woke up, but the warmth was nothing compared to the hot breath on the nape of his neck. Makoto was still sleeping, his arms wrapped around Sousuke in a comforting embrace, his nose nuzzled against him. He felt the pressure of Makoto’s thighs against the back of his, and the heat of the night before flooded his mind. The intoxicating sounds his boyfriend made, the feeling of being inside him. He was instantly hard again, but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want the moment to end.

 

 

Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined that this date (okay, dammit, Kisumi, it was a date!) would develop into this, into the two of them sharing a bed as boyfriends after an intense session of lovemaking. At best, he had hoped for a kiss, and reality by far surpassed anything he could have imagined. Sousuke didn’t realise he was grinning like an idiot until he felt a hint of drool in the corner of his mouth. He wiped it quickly before it could dribble down on Makoto’s arm upon which he rested his head. The movement made Makoto stir, squeezing Sousuke tightly in something between a yawn and a stretch. He craned his neck around to look at the perfect mess of olive hair and the blinking green eyes beneath it. Makoto looked like a puppy who was still half asleep, and all Sousuke wanted to do was to shower him in kisses. So he did.

The treatment made Makoto giggle sleepily, and snuggle closer to him. Sousuke was not about to complain. Instead, he found those soft lips he had been worshipping the night before and they kissed lazily for a moment before a tell-tale rumbling came from inside a stomach.

“You hungry?” Sousuke nudged his olive-haired boyfriend forehead with his nose, and said boyfriend mumbled an affirmative.

“I’ll make us breakfast.”

“But that means you’ll have to get out of bed,” Makoto complained, and Sousuke couldn’t help but grin.

“Yes, it does.”

“Nope,” Makoto declared and hugged him tightly, “you’re not getting away that easily!” It was Sousuke’s turn to be showered with kisses, and it gave him goosebumps and heart palpitations. This all felt so unreal, and he lingered a few more moments, cherishing the feeling of Makoto’s hot breath against his skin. Then he reluctantly disentangled himself, and trudged across the floor towards the kitchenette to cook miso soup and rice, dig some eggs and natto out of the fridge, and cutting up the avocado.

The eggs were mixed and slowly turning into a perfect omelette in the pan as he brewed up some tea, craving a different fix than coffee now that he wasn’t working. While the leaves were soaking, he slid the thin omelette over on a plate and cut it into neat pieces, ready to decorate the top of the rice which was just ready. As he portioned it out into two small bowls, a hand gently brushing his arm announced Makoto’s presence right behind him.

“You’re too good to me,” the latter whispered, and placed a tender kiss on the nape of Sousuke’s neck. It made his whole body break out in goosebumps and an involuntary, but oh, so tiny gasp passed the threshold of his lips. It was like the wariness of a lifetime evaporated with that one, small, but significant touch.

“You deserve it. You deserve everything.” Sousuke turned around just in time to see Makoto’s lips part in an attempt to answer back, but they were very quickly too occupied with kissing to do anything such thing. As they broke apart, Sousuke placed his fingertips on his boyfriend’s lips.

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say. You do deserve everything. Even if you might not feel that way yourself. So, let me pamper you. I suspect you haven’t had a proper breakfast in months.” The look on Makoto’s face told him it was pretty likely the olive haired idiot in front of him hadn’t had any type of breakfast in ages. Boy, did he want to change that!

They ate at the small counter with the tall chairs (mainly so that they didn’t have to put the bed away), and Sousuke delighted in every little expression on Makoto’s face as the latter consumed the lovingly prepared meal before him. For someone so careless about getting enough of it, Makoto sure did appreciate food, and Sousuke found himself barely touching his, mind far too busy fantasising about cooking food for him every single day, just to have the pleasure of seeing those expressions again. He would like that very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	14. Of Mackerel and Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait! Work and life in general has taken up most of my time and made it difficult to find a moment to sit down and write. I hope you enjoy this!

It had only been two hours since he said goodbye to Sousuke, and Makoto was already finding it impossible to take his mind off him. The flat was tidier than it had been in months, as he had attempted to distract himself with menial tasks, but before long, he found himself in the shower, gripping himself tightly, moaning his boyfriend’s name as he replayed the memory of the intense sessions which had left his body deliciously sore. He had been relieved to find that while Sousuke was built like a brick house, he was blessedly normal-sized in the downstairs department, perhaps slightly more girthy than himself, but not so much so that the thought of bottoming was tinged with worry of whether or not it might be painful. Average in size Sousuke might have been, but his skills were way beyond average. He was attentive and patient in a way Makoto had not encountered in his (granted only two) other partners. Sousuke really listened, and made him feel safe enough to express his needs and wishes. Sousuke was also generous with praise and verbal feedback, which gave Makoto confidence and a feeling of being somewhat accomplished himself. Having always felt awkward and passive during sex, in fear of doing something wrong, that felt immensely liberating, empowering and unspeakably erotic.

 

With the memory of Sousuke groaning his name playing inside his head, his pleasure spilled over, and he was thankful for being in the shower and didn't have to worry about the mess. He dried off quickly once the afterglow had yielded and threw on some PJ bottoms and that t-shirt Haru always stole whenever he stayed over. _Haru! I have to tell Haru!_

 

In between sex and finally finishing that movie they had started watching when Makoto came over, Sousuke had made it clear that while he wasn't out to his family, he didn't mind Makoto telling Haru about them, and that he wanted to tell Rin if Makoto was okay with it. And Makoto was more than okay with it! _Sousuke is my boyfriend! I've had sex with Sousuke and spent two days with him and he wants to do it all again! With me!_

 

He was bursting with excitement when he dialed Haru, each ring only fuelling it.

 

“Makoto.” Haru was his usual, verbally economic self, but there was an odd sound in his voice, a voice Makoto only now realised how much he had missed.

 

“Hey, Haru! How are you?”

 

“It's been a month. Today.”

 

“Huh?” Makoto was confused, but also worried.

 

“It's been a month since you called or texted me, Makoto.” Haru's words hit him like a brick wall. He wanted to snap back at him and say that Haru could have called or texted him, but then he realised that Haru _had_ called _and_ texted him. He just hadn't had the energy to respond, and when he finally did, it had felt like such a huge task and so he had ignored or forgotten about it. It dawned on him that the loneliness he had been feeling might actually have been somewhat self-induced, that he had been isolating himself subconsciously. And hurt his best friend in the process, it seemed. 

 

“Haru… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've just…”

 

“I was worried about you. Are you okay? Have you been eating properly? Do you want me to come over?” Makoto couldn't form a response to any of those questions. He had expected Haru to be angry, to shout at him the way he did when they had their first fight, but instead Haru overwhelmed him with concern.

 

“I'm coming over,” Haru declared, and before Makoto could collect his thoughts enough to point out that it was 11pm and what about Haru's morning practice, Haru hung up.

 

It took twenty minutes and then there was a knock on the door. Haru must have been on his way out the door when he ended the phone call, Makoto thought and opened the door. His best friend's blue eyes locked with his instantly before disappearing beneath black locks of hair as Haru surprised him with a tight hug. Haru smelled of chlorine and home and Makoto wrapped his arms around him, returning the embrace.

 

Ten minutes later, he was seated in the couch, Haru insisting on making him mackerel. Makoto knew he had noticed the bags of litter filled with fast food containers, but his friend hadn't commented on it, for which Makoto was very thankful. Haru had in fact not said anything since he arrived, but as he came over with a bowl of rice topped with perfectly grilled mackerel, he locked eyes with Makoto, blue eyes filled to the brim with emotions which were otherwise invisible to the rest of his body language.

 

“It’s been lonely without you.” Haru’s simple words encompassed the storm of feelings and thoughts which had harried at Makoto the last few months, and he knew that no words were needed to convey it; their connected eyes completed that task for them. There was no need to explain anything, they had spent too many years, experienced too many things together. Looking into Haru’s eyes, Makoto knew his best friend understood, and a memory of standing together in a pool, smiling with happiness and reconciliation, clothes wet and clinging to their skin the way their friendship clung to their souls, washed over him like a warm blanket.

 

They ate in silence, like they’d done countless times before, and as the rice and fish invigorated Makoto’s entire body, Haru’s eyes glittered in contentment.

 

“Something happened. Something happened that made you call me.” It wasn’t a question so much as a demand, and Makoto could feel nervous energy bubbling up inside his tummy.

 

“I… I met someone,” he began, testing the waters by looking at Haru, who’s curiosity had been piqued. “And we’re dating.” Haru’s lips were tugged into the hint of a smile, and his eyes widened with a question.

 

“Yeah, you know him... It’s… uhm…" His voice quivered ever so slightly. "It’s-”

 

“Yamazaki.” It wasn’t even a surprise to him that Haru knew. There wasn’t really anyone else who would have made Makoto so nervous about Haru’s potential reaction as Sousuke did, not since Kisumi started dating Asahi, at least.

 

“Good.” That response, however _did_ surprise him.

 

“Huh!?”

 

“He’ll be good for you. You need someone solid and reliable. Yamazaki is both.” As usual, Haru’s eyes said everything his lips omitted: _I’m happy for you_. There was nothing that could stop the giddiness about to burst Makoto open, so he went with it and threw his arms around his friend, tugging him close.

 

“Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t see Haru smile, but he could feel it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	15. Beyond Repair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New week, new chapter! :D

How four days could have gone by so fast, while the consecutive two felt like an eternity was torture. Sousuke had been blessed with Makoto’s company either before or after work the first four days, but with midterms coming dangerously close, they had agreed that Makoto needed to focus and catch up. So a three day sabbatical from each other was instated, with the reward of a whole day together at the end of them, on Sousuke’s day off. That was tomorrow, and he was so unfocused at work, with only one hour left of his early shift, that Kisumi had sent him to the back room to prep bags of coffee which would later be stacked by the till. At least, that’s what he assumed must have been the reason why his boss had suddenly snatched the portafilter out of his hands and sent him back there. That was half an hour ago, and somehow, his hands clearly working on autopilot, he had done so many bags, he had run out of beans to fill with, so he got up to ask Kisumi where he could find more. However, he had barely even opened the door, spotting Aki by having already started her shift, and then the door was slammed shut in his face. He could hear Kisumi’s voice telling her (rather loudly, Sousuke noted) that they had to get the door fixed so it didn’t open each time there was a draft. Startled by confusion, Sousuke blinked.

 

“I’m gonna go check if that damned cat has managed to open the back door again,” Kisumi stated, yet again louder than he usually would, and before Sousuke had the chance to react, the pink typhoon launched through the door, slamming it shut, and collided into his broad chest.

 

“Sousuke! You know that trap door we talked about a while back? You need to use it right now.” Kisumi had that look in his eyes he only got when the espresso machine needed service on a Friday afternoon.

 

“What’s going on? Wait, there’s an actual trap door?!”

 

“I’ll explain later, and yes, there is. For cases beyond repair. This is one of them. Aki came in early, so I need you to take this key,” purple eyes conveyed the urgency that the firm, smooth voice suppressed as Kisumi moved the table in the staff room along with the rug lying beneath it, indeed revealing an actual trap door, iron ring handle and all, “and use it for the door you’ll find down there. It will lead you to an underground corridor and finally a second door. Use the second key for that one. It’ll take you to the subway station. You have to remember to lock both doors behind you.”

 

Sousuke could only blink.

 

“Now,” Kisumi urged him, quietly, “I don’t have all day.”

 

And so it was that Sousuke discovered a secret passage to the nearby subway station directly from What the Fox, and made a mental note to have a serious talk with Kisumi about whether or not the café was a shop front for the Yakuza or something.

 

He folded the apron he was still wearing and pulled out his phone. He assumed that going back to fetch his bike was out of the question right now, and going home by foot would take far longer than he would prefer, so he brought up Asahi’s number and dialed it. It rang a few times before he heard the redhead’s voice answer.

 

"Sousuke?"

 

“Hey, buddy!”

 

“What’s up? I thought you were working today? Did you finish early?” Asahi had, according to Kisumi, been very excitable and wildly energetic as a kid, but he had grown into a pretty well-balanced individual. He would still get excited and occasionally forget to use his indoor voice, but his wild nature had been tempered into a sharp focus and charismatic charm of someone full of life and humour. No wonder Kisumi adored him, even if it had taken a good four months of Kisumi blatantly flirting and making an abundance of moves before Asahi had gotten it into his thick skull that the pink haired flirt was in fact not just messing around with him.

 

“Your boyfriend let me off early. Are you busy? I haven’t seen you in ages, so it’d be nice to catch up.” It was perhaps not the entire truth, but Sousuke had missed hanging out with him. He could explain later. Not that he even knew what was going on himself, but hopefully Kisumi would fill him in soon enough.

 

“I’ve just finished one of my exams, so I was actually about to go out to celebrate by stuffing myself full of unhealthy things! Why don’t you join me?”

 

“That sounds fucking perfect. Where were you thinking?”

 

“That new tempura place near the university,” Asahi replied and as they agreed to meet there, a message ticked in on Sousuke’s phone. He said goodbye to Asahi and saw that Kisumi had sent him a picture. Frowning, he opened it up and a shiver went down his spine. The picture was taken at the café, from behind the espresso machine where it was possible to do so without being noticed. She was sitting by the table by the door, one leg over another, blonde hair perfectly curled as always, her brown eyes keeping close watch on the entrance from beneath the straight fringe framing her face. And she had that expression, the one where her lips were half pursed, half drawn up in a snarl. The one which always preceded and argument he knew he’d lose.

 

_Asuka._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	16. Friend Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I have just gotten a full time job, and there has been very little time to write as I started straight away, whilst still having my two other part time jobs to work for in the evening (after June, I'll be done with one of them, so that will hopefully leave me with more time to write again). This chapter is a bit longer than the previous one, though, so I hope you enjoy it!

There was a whole series of questions in Sousuke's head, but Kisumi would not be available to answer them until he finished his shift, so Asahi proved to be a very useful distraction. They found a table and ordered food before they fell into easy conversation. Asahi was such a comfortable person to talk to. He rarely needed prompting and his enthusiasm was infectious. Before long, he had Sousuke in stitches with a story about one of Kisumi's many failed attempts to seduce the redhead. Asahi was obviously the butt of the story's joke, but rather than be embarrassed about it, he treated whole ordeal as one of his stand-up comedy routines and basked in the hilarity of it all. He had gotten very good at the whole comedy thing since he started doing regular performances during open mic nights, and he had started to mirthfully say that it would be his plan B if his swimming career didn't pan out.

 

“And, so for an entire month, Kisumi let me go around saying that he was a vegetarian who made an exception when it came to eating sausage, and I genuinely thought he had a thing for bratwursts or something.”

 

“I yield, I yield! Please show mercy,” Sousuke begged, clutching his stomach, jaw aching from the constant grinning.

 

“I’m serious. I didn’t get it until people started to say I should try doing stand-up comedy, but even then, it didn’t click that Kisumi had been flirting with me.” The fact that Asahi could tell this story with a straight face, was in itself an indicator that his plan B had some solid potential.

 

“Anyway, how’s your sex life?” Despite the fact that the reference from The Room had already become a well-integrated part of their conversation and was meant to serve as a “and now over to something completely different” maneuver, he couldn’t help but think about exactly how much his sex life had just improved, and felt the tell-tale colour rising in his face, matching his friend’s hair.

 

“Oh. I see. Uhm. Well. Uh. Good stuff happening, then?” Asahi awkwardly shoved a deep fried piece of chicken into his mouth in lieu of anything else to say and awaited Sousuke’s reply. The latter took a sip of his coke and cleared his throat.

 

“Yeah. I guess you could say that,” he admitted and smiled affectionately at the thought of green eyes and olive hair.  _ I’ll see him tomorrow. _ The smile widened. 

  
  
  


“Dayum. Someone got you good, eh!” Asahi was grinning widely, and Sousuke was convinced he must have looked like a complete dolt. And he didn’t care.

 

“Yeah,” he conceded and Asahi looked at him expectantly. So far, Sousuke hadn’t told anyone except Rin and Kisumi. Rin had cried and told him he was so happy that two of the most wonderful people in the world had found each other and then proceeded to ask if they had “done it”, to which Sousuke had replied by flipping him off. Kisumi has just given him a smug smile, a hug and a wink, and then continued cleaning the counter. Their reactions had made him feel more comfortable with being open about it, so he met Asahi’s eyes and said it.

 

“Makoto.”

 

“Eeeeeehhhh!? Really? Tachibana Makoto? Where did that come from?” The redhead looked genuinely surprised, but also delighted, to Sousuke’s relief.

 

“We recently reconnected and, well, uh… We discovered that we really enjoy each other’s company, and then one thing led to another and, uhm, now we’re dating.” It was a strange how coming out got a little bit easier every time he did it.

 

“That’s… That’s awesome, dude! I’m really happy for you!” Asahi’s smile made his eyes crinkle and Sousuke felt immensely thankful for having such great friends. They toasted in cola, and finished their meal whilst Asahi went on an tangent about the latest episode of his favorite anime.

 

By the time they had thrown on their coats and headed out for the street, Sousuke had almost completely forgotten about the message, but as Kisumi rounded the corner to meet them, he felt the anxiety rush back into his veins. His boss gave Asahi a quick peck on the cheek, and then locked Sousuke with a glare.

 

“Ok, so we’re going back to our place and you’re coming with us. This is non-negotiable. I have bought you a toothbrush and underwear, and you can borrow some of Asahi’s clothes for tomorrow.” Kisumi’s declaration didn’t leave any room for argument and 30 minutes later found them all in Kisumi and Asahi’s shared flat, frying up an insane amount of vegetables and noodles, along with some pork in a separate pan for Sousuke and Asahi. With all three of them working together, the meal was ready in no time, and they all settled down at the stylish dining table Kisumi somehow had managed to scoop at a vintage market.

 

“First of all, are you ok with Asahi being here while we talk about this? Don’t worry, Asahi won’t get offended, will you?” Asahi confirmed with a nod, but looked slightly puzzled about the whole situation, nonetheless. Sousuke looked at the guy he had just come out to less than three hours prior, and decided that if he could trust the redhead with that, he could trust him with the story of his crazy ex-girlfriend.

 

“I’m ok with Asahi being here. That’s fine.” All the questions from earlier had started to bubble back up again, and he didn’t want to waste more time waiting for the answers, but before he could even begin to form them into sentences in his head, Kisumi started talking.

 

“So, I owe you an explanation. The reason I sent you out back to sort the coffee bags was because I saw that girl in the picture I sent you approach the door. She came in yesterday after you left and asked if you were in. When I said you weren’t, she asked when you would be in, so I told her you’d be in today. And then she started asking about where you lived and if you were seeing someone, and all of my red flag sensors went up, so I just told her that I couldn’t disclose that sort of information about my employees to a customer. Then she started getting agitated, and claimed that she was your girlfriend and she wanted to make sure you weren’t cheating on her. That’s when I knew for certain she was bad news. It took me ten solid minutes of dodging her questions before she finally left. I felt really bad for having told her that you’d be working today, but at the same time, I couldn’t be sure she would actually turn up. So, when she did, I figured the best course of action would be to get you out of there unnoticed and Aki happened to come in early, so it proved easier than I thought it would be. Anyway, she didn’t speak to me at all, she just ordered coffee and stayed until we closed, like she expected you to turn up. She gave me the most venomous look when I asked her to leave because we were shutting shop. So, now I need to know who the hell this stalker of yours is and what does she want?”

 

It was a good thing Sousuke had been sitting down, because he may very well have fainted if he had been standing up. All the blood seemed to have left his head, and he felt dizzy and unwell.

 

“Sousuke? Are you okay? You’re looking kind of pale.” Kisumi handed him a glass of water and he dutifully drank it and took a few deep breaths.

 

“He name is Asuka Takagi and she’s my ex-girlfriend. It’s a long story, but she was introduced to me through my parents and they suggested we spend some time together. It was pretty clear what they had in mind. After I wrecked my shoulder, I felt like I had already disappointed my parents enough, so I thought ‘what’s the harm in indulging them a little’, and she seemed like a nice person at the time. But then she slowly started getting more possessive, and when I found out she’d told everyone we were an item, she started emotionally blackmailing me. Fool that I was, I went along with it, not wanting to hurt her feelings or let down my parents, but then things got a lot worse. I… I don’t wanna go into detail, but suffice to say, I have a restraining order on her now, and she’s not been a problem for a while.”

 

“Damn.” Asahi looked gobsmacked, but Kisumi had the expression of someone in deep thought.

 

“Why would she risk breaking a restraining order? I get that she’s not a particularly nice person, but she doesn’t seem stupid.” Sousuke opened his mouth to answer Kisumi’s question and found himself at a loss for words. Why, indeed? When she called him, he had been so caught up in his own emotional response to it, that he hadn’t stopped to consider what might have motivated her to break the restraining order now, after almost one year of radio silence.

 

“I have a suggestion,” Kisumi began hesitantly, “but you’re not going to like it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	17. The Dolphin Kick of Candour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iˋm so sorry for the long wait and for the shortness of this chapter! Iˋve had little to no time to write lately and I felt that a short chapter was better than no chapter. I have every intention of finishing this, though, so thank you all so much for your patience!

Haru had been coming over the last three days, making sure Makoto had at least one proper meal each day while he studied intensely for his exams. It felt like old times, and it gave him the focus he needed to concentrate on his studies rather than checking his phone for texts from Sousuke every third minute. Having caught up on most of what he was lagging behind on in his weakest subjects, the amount of stress which had been weighing him down was substantially reduced. There was however, something else stressing him out.

 

“I don't know what to give Sousuke for his birthday. It's tomorrow and I still haven't managed to come up with the perfect gift! Haru, you have to help me!” Haru looked up from the pan with fried vegetables.

 

“Give him a blowjob.”

 

“HARU! That’s not a proper gift!” Makoto felt his cheeks flush and shoved a pillow over his face to hide it.

 

“That’s not what he’s been saying.”

 

“WHAT!?” The pillow was tossed aside as Makoto shot up from where he had been hiding beneath it on the couch.

 

“I didn’t know you talked with Sousuke! Let alone about... well, private stuff!”

 

“I don’t. Rin told me.”

 

“RIN?!”

 

“He told me Sousuke had called your mouth a gift from the gods.” 

 

“Oh my gods…” Sinking back into the couch, Makoto grabbed the pillow again. “Let me die,” he grumbled into it.

 

“That wouldn’t be a very nice birthday present, would it,” Haru pointed out, clearly having caught Makotoˋs muffled words. “I think Yamazaki would prefer to have the owner of the god-given mouth alive and well.” Haru still wore his usual deadpan face, but there was a twinkle in his eye and the ghost of a smile on his lips.

 

“Uuuuurgh! You are absolutely no help at all,” Makoto gave him an accusatory glare and began rummaging the apartment, opening drawers and going through bookshelves. Haruˋs silence said enough to prompt an answer.

 

“Iˋm trying to find something which would make do as a present, since you are being completely useless,” he complained, his green eyes flickering here and there in search for ideas.

 

“Makoto.” He turned to meet Haruˋs blue eyes. The mischief was gone, replaced with a calm warmth.

 

“Sit down.” Makoto did as ordered, albeit somewhat exasperated. “Rin also told me that Yamasaki is a sentimental dork. He still has that Mecha Ikura he got from Ai and Momo at Samezuka on his shelf. Itˋs the little things, Makoto. You donˋt need some big, expensive gift for a man who keeps a napkin with doodles on it because it reminds him of a steakhouse Rin once took him to.”

 

“How do you know all this, Haru?!” The incredulity must have been dripping off his face, because Haru actually smirked.

 

“You donˋt think Iˋd let someone date my best friend without doing some proper background screening first, did you?” Makoto gaped, but he knew he shouldnˋt really be surprised. Haru had always been protective to the the verge of territorial about him, and it made complete sense that he would call up Rin and interrogate him about Sousuke to make sure his best pal was in good hands.

 

“My point is, Makoto, that as long as itˋs from you, I donˋt think you can really go wrong no matter what you choose to give him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could really use some help with finding out what Makoto decides to give Sousuke, so if you have any fun ideas, feel free to tell me on Twitter or Tumblr (links below)!
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	18. Gaslight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me far too long to find the time and mental calm to write this chapter because it's been a tough one, but it's finally done! Also! I've finally managed to name all the chapters, and I've updated them all with their new names! ^_^
> 
>  
> 
> Finally, I'd like to give a content warning about abusive behaviour which could possibly be experienced as triggering. I know there are a lot of people who have been through that, and I would like you to be able to mentally prepare for that if you need to.

Kisumi's hand squeezed his shoulder, and that fact was the only thing keeping Sousuke from bailing. The evening had swooped in on temperamental clouds carrying the offering of heavy rain and wind. It seemed appropriate, matching the fluttering anxiety inside his chest and he almost felt betrayed when the clouds broke to reveal what would undoubtedly have been a starlit sky, had the light from the park lamp posts not drowned it out. They looked like those old fashioned gaslights, and their soft light mingled with the smell of wet grass and those earthy autumn scents. I any other circumstance, it would have felt romantic.

 

They had decided he should meet her in the park. It was public without being too exposed, and it was a good distance away from Sousuke's place, making it less likely that she would manage to follow him when he went home. His friends had already made an escape plan if things went really badly. The two of them would stay nearby, under the pretense of being another couple out walking, but as they left, Sousuke regretted not begging them to stay with him. He fixed his gaze on ground and attempted to calm down his palpitations through controlled, steady breath.

 

The clicking of heels announced her presence and Sousuke looked up from the patch of concrete he had been focusing on to see blonde locks in slack waves (the perfect curls undone by the dampness of the rain) spill over a cream coloured coat. Her trademark pencil skirt in beige had a darkened patch where her umbrella had been brushing it and her black heels were glossy from the rain. She was wearing that smile she would produce when things were going her way, poorly concealed smugness seeping through.

 

Sousuke could feel a muscle twitch in his jaw, his entire body tense like a strung bow, arrow nocked and ready to take flight.

 

“Hey, baby!” The words were spoken softly, sweetly, but his stomach turned as he heard them, and when she reached out to touch his arm, he involuntarily flinched. She noticed, but seemed to ignore it.

 

“I’m so glad you changed your mind, baby.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“I’m sorry. I guess I’m moving a little fast. A lot has happened.” There was something about the tone of her voice that put Sousuke on edge, his anxiety spiking. She was far too calm. The only time Asuka was that calm, was when she had him backed into a corner. He swallowed hard.

 

“First of all, I’m so relieved that business with that ridiculous restraining order was sorted.”

 

“What…?” Sousuke’s mouth was dry as she spoke, his heart was pounding in his chest.

 

“Well, obviously it was all a misunderstanding, and my family lawyer cleared it all up last week. Your parents were in complete agreement, of course.” Beads of sweat started to form on his skin.

 

“It was so lovely seeing our parents together again, Sou-Sou! Your mother looked so well!” His breathing was causing his nostrils to flare.

 

“Anyway, we had a meal after the meeting, and, gosh, it was almost embarrassing how eager they all were, hahahahah!” She had the audacity to blush and look coy. He felt sick.

 

“I had to stop them and remind them that you ought to be involved in the planning as well! Oh, Sou-Sou! I can hardly believe this is going to happen! Your father should be getting in touch soon! I told him I wanted to bring the news to you myself, so now that I have, I’ll tell him to get started on the paperwork.” He couldn’t move. The meaning of her words sunk in like a toxic substance burning through his skin. His stomach had dropped and he felt like he was falling while standing completely still. There had been talk of arranged marriage before. He had dismissed it.  Just parents fussing over their son’s disinterest in women.

 

“Sou-Sou? Are you okay? I know it’s overwhelming, but,” she paused to reach up to caress his cheek, and the touch tore his mind brutally back into the now. He wanted to swat her hand away, but his arm wouldn't obey him.

 

“Sousuke. This will be good for both of us. You know your parents would disown you if you started dating a man. You’d be homeless. You’d lose everything. Is that really worth it? I don’t think it is, Sou-Sou. That's a luxury someone like you can't afford. I'm willing to do this for you. Because I love you. We all have to make some sacrifices in life. It’s a pretty small price to pay, isn’t it? You know I just want to make you happy?” She was trying to inch closer to him again, and he felt himself stagger backwards.

 

“Are you having an episode again?” _An episode?_ He blinked in confusion and Asuka’s face went soft.

 

“It’s okay, Sou-Sou. I told them about your condition. Your parents understand.”

 

“My what?!”

 

“Your condition. That you sometimes have episodes which makes you behave irrationally. That it can make you clumsy and fall or hurt yourself.”

 

“What are you t-”

 

“You don’t remember, do you. They say that can be a side effect. Poor baby. It’s alright. I’m here to take care of you now. I’ll always be here for you now, Sou-Sou.” She slid her arms around his waist, and he couldn’t stop her, too paralysed by her words to even speak. He felt like he was watching himself as she pulled him down into a kiss. Everything inside him screamed and all he was capable of doing was to close his eyes and hope that it would be over soon. He didn’t notice his tears until she broke away and released her grip on his neck.

 

“Oh, Sou-Sou! I’ve missed you too,” she whispered, wiping them away from his face. A helplessness he hadn’t felt in a long time seeped into his chest, one that whispered to him how much easier it would be to just give in because he knew she would always win anyway. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was like some curse had been lifted, and he fished it out. It was the message they had planned Kisumi would send as an escape plan.

 

From Kizumi: Hey, dude! My car broke down! Any chance you can give me a ride home? You would be a life saver!

 

“I… I gotta go. My boss is in a bit of a predicament and needs some help.”

 

“Really? Can I see?” He had expected this. She hadn’t changed. He showed her the message.

 

“Oh. I guess you’ll have to go, then,” she sighed, and he could tell she was hoping he would change his mind, or show any sign of being deceitful.

 

“I’m afraid so.”

 

“Well, I’ll talk to you soon, anyway!” She stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. It took all his willpower to avoid flinching. He somehow managed to hold it together as she walked away, with what she probably thought was a seductive sway of hips. When she disappeared out of view, the wave of adrenaline that came crashing down on him nearly knocked him over, and he stumbled over to the closest bushes to throw up. He vaguely noticed Asahi’s voice saying his name and felt Kisumi’s hands steady him. Neither said a word while he emptied his stomach, and they helped him over to a bench. He didn’t care that it was still wet from the rain. He tried to speak but found himself incapable of saying anything but one word.

 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	19. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning! This chapter contains elements related to depression and suicide which may be very triggering.

They had made it just in time to get Sousuke's present sorted before the shop closed. Haru had held all his things while he looked for his wallet, nearly having a panic attack thinking he had lost it. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Haru pointing at the till where his keys and wallet lay for all to see. He blushed and apologised profusely, and paid the old lady behind the counter. Haru tossed his things in the car, taking it for granted that he would drive him home, but Makoto felt like walking to get rid of all of that nervous energy, seeing that the rain had stopped, but he was so distracted he nearly forgot to grab his jacket from the back seat. Haru offered the slightest of smiles, shaking his head, and told him that some fresh air would probably be good for him. Makoto watched him drive off, and he was smiling to himself as he took the shortcut through the park near Kisumi's coffee shop. He delighted in the way the the rain made the trees seem to glitter in the soft lamp light. On one of the other paths further in, he could see a couple kissing, and it looked so romantic, he found himself grinning. Until he recognised the man's jacket. And then his shoes. His face...

 

_Sousuke!_

 

It couldn't be, but it was, and he was standing there, kissing a woman. He didn't seem to be resisting it at all either, and when they broke apart, the woman was caressing his face, with an intimacy and familiarity that twisted the proverbial knife in Makoto's heart. He tried to blink away the blur obstructing his sight as tears welled up and poured effortlessly down his face. Failing miserably, he simply turned away, his feet on autopilot, and ran in the general direction of home.

 

He was soaked through with sweat when he stumbled through the door of his flat, so he simply stripped as he moved towards the bathroom, naked by the time he reached the shower, and turned the water on.

 

His logic side was telling him that it was a misunderstanding, that there had to be an explanation, but his depression was reminding him how Sousuke had been the one to suggest they took three days off from each other. He sobbed until the water went cols, and then there were no tears left. Wrapping himself in his biggest towel, he padded ut and dug out his PJs. He wished Haru hadn't left, that he had accepted the ride home, but as much as he craved Haru's company, he couldn't get himself to dial his number. His thumb hovered over Sousuke's contact in his “recently called” list, and he decided to let his logic side win. Surely there had to be an explanation for all of this.

 

The phone rang out and sent him to voicemail. He tried two more times with the same result. The fourth time, he was cut off, and a text ticked in from Sousuke. His heart nearly stopped.

 

**From Sousuke:** Can't talk right now. I'll text you tomorrow. S.

 

No emojis, no terms of endearment, just eight, cold words. And why would Sousuke need to text him when they had already planned on meeting up for breakfast the next day? Was that called off now? He realised too late that he was hyperventilating. It was a mercy that he was ready sitting in the couch as the panic attack flooded his consciousness with that horrible feeling of drowning.

 

He rode it out but fell asleep from exhaustion afterwards, his dreams haunted by Sousuke smirking at him before kissing plump, feminine lips, fingers tangled in long, blonde hair as two tongues mocked Makoto with their intimate dance. There was no escape as the couple before him gradually got more and more intense, clothing being discarded, skin rubbing against skin, Sousuke's lazy chuckle turning into languished moans.

 

_“You know this is what I really want and you can't give it to me. Can you blame me for finding it elsewhere?”_

 

Moans turned to groans and panting, shrill cries from the faceless blonde in Sousuke's embrace.

 

_“Just because you behave like a pussy doesn't mean you can provide one,”_ dream Sousuke growled and Makoto woke up with a start.

 

It was 2 am in the morning. His neck was sore from sleeping on the couch, and he felt queasy. His phone had fallen down on the floor. He picked it up to find that it had turned itself off due to a flat battery. He plugged in the charger and it lit up. Leaving it to charge for a bit, he peeled himself off of the couch and headed for the kitchen to brew a cup of tea, hoping it might calm down his stomach. With a hot cup of chai, he made his way back to the couch and turned the phone on. It took half a minute before a bunch of notifications buzzed in; ten missed calls and one text message. Seven of the calls were from Haru, the remaining three plus the message from Sousuke. None of them seemed to have a time stamp, probably because his phone had been off. He ignored the missed calls from Haru and wasted no time opening the text.

 

**From Sousuke:** I'm really sorry, but I can't meet you for breakfast tomorrow. :( Something has happened and I need some time to sort stuff out. We need to talk, though. Can you come to the coffee shop at 1pm? Sorry for being vague, I just don't wanna do this over an sms. S.

 

It was like a punch to his solar plexus, all breath leaving him from that one, final blow. ‘We need to talk’. Wasn't that universally known as the code for ‘I'm breaking up with you’? At least Sousuke had the decency to do it face to face and give him a chance to prepare himself for it, he mused in an attempt to make the situation feel better, to find some silver lining, but it only served to make him feel bitter and resentful. He desperately needed something to anchor him, so he ended up running a bath, because that's what Haru would do, but sinking into the warm water did little to calm the storm inside him.

 

He should have known it was all too good to be true, that it was only a matter of time before Sousuke realised what a loser he was. He ducked his head under water, the way Haru often did when he was in the bath and wanted solitude and silence. It felt comforting to shut the whole world out while watching his breath escape in small bubbles from his mouth. Soon, he was out of bubbles, but he lingered, savouring the slight burn for air slowly clawing at his lungs. Something was whispering in the back of his head, like a voice from an old dream, soothing him.

 

_“You could just leave it all behind, it would be so easy. Just close your eyes a while, let everything drift. You know it doesn't hurt. You've felt it before. They don't need you. You can let go now. Just close your eyes a while. Close your eyes a while…”_

 

So he did, relishing the delicious dullness it brought. The burning sensation in his chest intensified until it felt like it was on fire, so he opened his mouth and let the water stream in, welcoming the coolness of it, drinking it in. His consciousness started to drift out as the liquid seeped in. Vivid colours playing in front of his mind's eye.

 

“Makoto!”

 

The new voice was muffled and distant, it's urgency dulled by the water's choking embrace until there was only a comforting silence and then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	20. Resuscitation

Lips against his. Air being forced back into his lungs. And then an overwhelming need to throw up. His chest was aflame as he coughed, water spraying out of his mouth. Gentle hands helped him stay steadily on his side and blearily, he could see the outline of a person. A his vision regained it’s focus, he heard a familiar voice, though shaky and broken, cry his name, and then repeatedly mutter it a few times as a towel was placed under his head. He looked up and met Haru’s red-rimmed eyes, all puffy from the tears that still streamed down his face. He was still trying to get his bearings, registering that he was on the bathroom floor, naked but for a fluffy towel spread over him, the big towel he had used earlier, beneath him, and then things started to come back to him. Shame, embarrassment and regret seemed to replace the water he had banished from his lungs. He curled himself up into a ball, and felt like weeping, but no tears would come.

 

“Why?” Haru’s voice was small, but brimming over with sadness and hurt. Makoto curled up tighter. His voice felt hoarse and raw from the coughing and retching. 

 

“I just wanted it to stop.”

 

“Life?” That one word from Haru and it began to dawn on him what he had almost done. Guilt joined the mix of feelings convening in his chest as all the implications and consequences of his actions came crashing down on him. Haru. The twins. His mother and father. His friends. Sousuke…

 

His best friend studied him in the torturous silence and reached over to place a hand on his shoulder.

 

“It's meaningless without Makoto.” The vulnerability, the tenderness of those words, the slight crack of Haruka's voice disarmed him so utterly, allowing all the love and hurt behind that statement to impale him like a ballista projectile.

 

The floodgates opened. All the tears that had been denied him before came rushing with a vengeance. Haru pulled his upper body into his lap and Makoto let him, the contact serving as a lifeline in the midst of the tsunami of feelings.

 

“I sometimes feel the same way, you know." Haru's voice was unsteady, but soothing. "Swimming helps. Come swim with me in the mornings like you used to, Makoto. Like you did when we moved here.” Indescribable joy filled Makoto's heart then, and he nodded vigorously, as it was all he managed to do between sobs.

 

* * *

 

 

Half an hour later, after repeatedly assuring Haru that he didn't need to go to the ER, Makoto was dressed in a clean set of PJs and seated in the couch.

 

“Do you have anyone to talk to,” Haru asked after a long silence while he brewed tea.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“A professional.”

 

“No,” Makoto replied after a long pause.

 

“I think it would be a good idea,” Haru suggested tentatively, and sat down beside him.

 

“Sousuke said the same thing,” Makoto mumbled, thinking of teal eyes and soft lips, and then he remembered how those lips were kissing someone else last night. He changed the subject.

 

“Why did you come over here at nearly three in the morning, Haru? And how did you get in?”

 

“You forgot Yamazaki's present in the back of my car. I went swimming and forgot about it, and then Rin called and we talked nearly until midnight. When I finally got around to calling you, I couldn't get through. And I figured it was important for you to have it since you're meeting him for breakfast, so I came over. I was going to put it through the mail slot, but you had left the door open. That's when I got worried.”

 

It was all too much. The fact that Haru had come all the way to his flat in the middle of the night to give him Sousuke's present, mixed with the fact that he would probably never get to give Sousuke that present because…

 

“He’s breaking up with me.” Blue eyes just stared quizzically at him, as if asking him to expand on that statement.

 

“Last night, I saw him in the park, kissing someone else. A woman. They seemed very intimate.” Haru’s mouth fell open in surprise.

 

“And then he sent me these,” Makoto continued and showing the messages from Sousuke, which Haru promptly read, a frown forming on his face.

 

“Hmmm. That makes sense, then,” he mumbled.

 

“What do you mean it makes sense?”

 

“Rin mentioned something about Gou being on the warpath and it had something to do with Yamazaki, but he wouldn't say what.”

 

“Gou?” Makoto’s confusion was now complete.

 

“Well, if she caught wind of Yamazaki dumping you, I can imagine she would be furious,” Haru rationalised, and added, “but she'll have to race me if she wants to murder him first.” That made Makoto smile for the first time that day.

 

“What should I do, Haru,” he sighed, leaning his head on Haru's shoulder.

 

“I think you should sleep some more, and then call Gou,” Haru finally stated after a long deliberation, but Makoto was already snoring softly on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	21. Asuka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning! This chapter contains elements pertaining to sexual abuse and rape. It gets rather dark, but more suggestive than graphic.

Dull ache mixed with sharp pain was the first thing she registered when she woke up. It was hardly a new sensation. The first time was when she was ten, the smell of sweat, Old Spice and alcohol burned into her memory. She had wet the bed in panic back then, and her mother had scolded her for it, but she kept her word and didn't say anything.

 

_ “It'll be our secret.” _

 

It had been their secret for ten years. And then Sousuke happened. He changed everything. The moment he stepped through the door for that first family dinner, something shifted. She remember the way he had looked at Sousuke, gauging him, evaluating his threat level, and, from the look on his face, finding him sufficiently threatening to put on a sour disposition. 

 

While her mother and father asked the newcomer about his education, his work (the family company, Takagi & Sons, had close collaboration with Yamazaki Inc. where Sousuke worked) and his plans for the future, her uncle had questioned him about his love life and demanded strange tidbits of information like how much he did in bench, if he'd ever been in a fist fight or if he knew how to do a sailor's knot. Her father had brushed his brother and business partner’s shenanigans off as attempt at humour, but Asuka knew better. He had been nervous and she had dared to hope, then. It was the most exhilarating feeling she had ever experienced.

 

Later on, he had pulled her aside, demanding to know what their relation was, his fingers digging into the bruises he knew she was hiding under the long cuffs of her blouse. When the word “boyfriend” fell out of her mouth, she remember him tensing up, while his grip on her wrist slacked. That night she slept in peace. No visitor at 3 am, no roaming hands, no rubber ball shoved into her mouth to keep her quiet, no red rope. No pain.

 

So, she started telling everyone who would listen that her and Sousuke were an item, and she had never slept so well in her life.

 

They had an argument over her announcement of their relationship status without his knowledge, but when she weepingly explained how she was in love with him, and she had thought he felt the same way, he yielded, and they kissed for the first time. It was nothing like the roughness her uncle would subject her to; it was soft and sweet and light, and that was probably when she fell in love with him for real. He became her world and she would use any excuse to see him. He would indulge her most of the time, because he knew that she would cry and feel down if he didn't. He was like a fairytale prince; always chivalrous and sweet, and he was patient and never made any move on her, as if he just knew that she needed to feel safe before she could even consider being intimate.

 

But then Sousuke changed. He got distant and detached, and she started to worry that he was keeping things from her. It gnawed on her and worrying about it gave her sleepless nights. In desperation, she started to check his phone behind his back. She found the password to his email and social media and she just couldn't help herself from having a look. What she found made her furious and hurt. He had been talking about her with his friends, calling her clingy and telling them how he was confused about how he felt, that he considered suggesting a time-out.

 

The confrontation that followed was horrible. She had never seen him that angry, shouting at her for invading his privacy, and when she tried to run away, he held her tightly by the wrist, refusing to let go. The only thing she could remember after that was how memories of rope burns and the feeling of being choked overwhelmed her mind before she blacked out. When she came to, she was shaking, and Sousuke was sitting on the floor, his back leaned up against the wall, knees pulled close to his chest, eyes far away.

 

_ “What did I do wrong?” _

 

Those were the only words he said that night, and she told him how she first feared she might lose him and then how she panicked when he grabbed her wrist, terrified he was going to kill her. He only nodded in silence. She explained how hurtful it was for her to read the things he had said, and how she could never trust him with those so-called friends of his. Another nod. She knew she was pushing it when she pleaded with him to not meet other girls when she wasn't there, but her jealously fueled her and her desperation made it feel right. Again, he only nodded. She didn't notice his blackened eye until she leaned down to kiss him, and when she asked him how it had happened, he only turned away. Weeks later, when she asked again, he just said that he had fallen trying to hold her back.

 

After that months passed, and things were mostly going well. They would argue frequently, and Sousuke would be clumsy and hurt himself, but she told her self that all couples argued, and it wasn't her fault that Sousuke was such a clutz. Theirs was hardly a perfect relationship, but what relationship ever was?

 

The real problem didn't start until she noticed that he had been talking with someone behind her back. A girl from some small town. His former best friend's fierce, redheaded little sister. The fact that it coincided with Asuka finally feeling ready to get intimate with him, made it all the more horrible. He had turned her down every time she made a move, one excuse after the other, until she was convinced he was cheating on her, that she had made him wait too long, until he tired of waiting and found his satisfaction elsewhere. They fought about it. He denied it, she didn’t believe him, told him that if he loved her, he’d delete Gou’s number and never talk with her or meet her again. She couldn’t remember if he did. The last bits of the argument was a blur. All she knew was that Sousuke had another episode and somehow managed to split his lip.

 

She couldn’t deal with the uncertainty, though, and asking him to provide her with evidence that he had done what she had asked of him, was like begging for another fight. So she returned to old sins instead, and started to check his phone. At first, she found that he had not deleted Gou’s number and then messages confirming that he was still talking with her, but there was no evidence that he had been meeting her in person, so she upped her game and began checking his online activities. Gay porn, guides to anal masturbation and discussion boards for closeted gay people in Japan was the last thing she expected to find.

 

The next time she saw him, was also the last, (or at least she thought it would be) he was accompanied by Gou, and gave her the papers for a restraining order while the tears flooded down her face. When she closed the door, she heard someone behind her take a swig from a bottle and the scent of Old Spice filled her nostrils. 

 

But waking up today, several months later, felt different. Even with the dull ache in her lower back and abdomen, the rope burns on her wrists and the dried semen flaking off of her thighs, today was a good day. Today would be the last day she would have to wake up like this. Today would be the day she got got him back. He had told her to meet him at half past one in the coffee shop. He would agree to it, she was certain. He had far too much too lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	22. The blood of the Covenant runs thicker...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I have been writing non-stop to get a lot of chapters out today, and I hope you've enjoyed it so far! I was hoping to get the birthday chapter ready, as it's the 14th of September today, but alas, too much needed to happen before I could do that.

Asahi and Kisumi had taken him back to their place and made him tea. When he finally felt somewhat like a human being again, he told them everything that had transpired in the park. Asahi had nearly combusted with rage.

 

“That bitch! How dare she,” Asahi fumed, springing up from his seat. “Seriously, I'd love to teach her a lesson in common decency! See how she likes being treated like shit!” Sousuke had no energy to summon a response, but Kisumi, who had been sitting calmly in deep thought through it all, finally spoke.

 

“I suspect she is all too familiar with that.” He glanced over at Sousuke who met his knowing gaze and sighed. Asahi was a living question mark.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“That’s up to Sousuke to tell,” Kisumi deflected, making it clear to his guest that he was ready to tackle his boyfriend and drag him to bed if questions were unwelcome. Sousuke took a deep breath.

 

“Asuka once told me that she had been sexually abused as a child and well into her teens.” Kisumi had ‘I hate being right’ written all over his face, while Asahi’s read ‘I hate being an idiot’.

 

“Shit,” the latter muttered, and Sousuke continued.

 

“I don’t know the details of who, but I have my suspicions. She kept talking about how I ‘saved her’, which kind of made me think that it might have still been going on when we met. Anyway, it was the reason why we never… got intimate beyond kissing. She was too traumatised, and I was happy to wait for her to be ready. But by the time she _was_ ready, I had realised I was gay, but I had no idea how to deal with that, so I just made excuses instead. I should have just been honest with her. Instead, that triggered her insecurities and her paranoia, and she convinced herself I was cheating on her with Gou.”

 

“But Gou’s-”

 

“Yeah, that didn’t seem to matter. She was certain that was how things were, so the truth was irrelevant. That’s when it got so bad that Gou stepped in herself and helped me get the restraining order. Asuka was literally having me under surveillance, using GPS to track my phone wherever I went, checking my phone, my laptop. That’s how she found out I was gay. Not that she cared about that either…”

 

“So, she knows you’re gay and still she’s pushing for and arranged marriage? Why would she do that?” Asahi scratched his head.

 

“Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it,” Kisumi remarked, pulling Asahi down into the couch again. “This is a pretty extreme move, and people don’t tend to take extreme measures unless they’ve got skin in the game.”

 

“Which, to us non-literature majors translates to…?” Asahi gave his boyfriend an annoyed nudge.

 

“Her personal stakes are high, and the consequences of her plan not working would be dire for her,” Kisumi explained, and Sousuke couldn’t help but admire how his boss had this talent for explaining things in a way that didn’t come across as condescending.

 

“You said you had a feeling that whoever was abusing her might have still been at it when you met her, and that she saw you as some sort of knight in shining armor?” Sousuke nodded.

 

“Do you think there’s a chance that this person might have started again after you left her?” For the second time that night, Sousuke felt like throwing up. It made uncomfortably much sense.

 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do!? If this is the case, I can’t just leave her to that fate! But like hell if I’m going back to that nightmare of an excuse for a relationship!” His arms were flailing about in exasperation as he spoke, and Asahi grabbed hold of one of them.

 

“Sousuke? Do you love Makoto?” The redhead’s question caught him completely off-guard and before he could stop himself, one word blurted out of his mouth.

 

“Yes!” He realised what he had said and paused to take in the truth of it. _I love him. I love Makoto._

 

“Then you should tell your parents that,” Asahi concluded with surprising maturity, “and if they decide to be assholes about it, you can live with us,” he added before Sousuke could protest, leaving the latter with an open mouth and wide eyes.

 

“Also, you should call Gou,” Kisumi pointed out. “She’s helped you with this before, so perhaps she can help you again? And you should probably talk with your parents as soon as possible, perhaps tomorrow morning?” Nodding silently, Sousuke picked up his phone, which had been been buzzing annoyingly for the last couple of minutes, and started buzzing again as he pulled it out of his pocket. In irritation, he just slid the auto-answer option up, picking the pre-written template ‘Can’t talk right now. I'll text you tomorrow. S.’ and sent it to whoever was phoning him. Then he found Gou’s number and dialled it.

 

Over three hours later, Sousuke had weathered the storm of an enraged Gou shouting profanities her brother would have been shocked and abhorred to hear leave her mouth, but it was all worth it when she brought him to harbour with a vow that she would do whatever she could to help. After that, he sent a text to Ai, who was currently doing his first year of a degree in social work and child psychology to become a child protective service officer. Asuka was hardly a child any more, but he figured that Ai might have some useful input of how to tackle something like this. His former team mate called him up mere seconds after he sent the text, and they had an extensive conversation where a lot of contacts and names where noted down, and Ai promised to do some research of his own. Finally, he arranged a meeting with his father in the morning, begrudgingly realising that it would mean having to cancel breakfast with Makoto, which reminded him that he had to get hold of his boyfriend and let him know what was going on.

 

After being put directly to voicemail three times, and being immensely fatigued and sleepy from a far too eventful evening, Sousuke decided to just send a quick message to Makoto, apologising for having to cancel breakfast. There was nothing he would rather do than to tell Makoto everything, but an sms was hardly the format for it.

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	23. ... than the waters of the womb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some pretty rough weeks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of it, which also means having some energy for writing. Also, I added a title for the last chapter, which hopefully will make this chapter title make sense.

His father seemed in a good mood when he entered, but Sousuke knew that was merely the sugar coating of a very bitter pill. He sat down before the big oak desk, the one his father still expected him to want to inherit one day, and steeled himself for the inevitable discomfort this conversation was bound to provide him with.

 

“I am thrilled to hear the good news, Sousuke,” said his father, with a voice that carried as much enthusiasm as dried out pot plant. “It gives me hope to see that you are willing to change for the good of our family, our name. I have the final drafts of your marriage contract right here, and I was hoping I we could review it together.” Sousuke watched him open a drawer and pull out a folder. His father’s grey eyes was filled with the the excitement his voice lacked, and they very nearly killed Sousuke’s courage. But he did as planned: deep breaths, focus. He looked at the folder, and then met his father’s eyes.

 

“I’m gay, dad.” The silence that followed was the loudest Sousuke had ever experienced, and their eye contact provided him with a total of nothing to go by. His father didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, he just stared at him. When he spoke, his voice was a little less flat, but still cold and collected.

 

“That’s irrelevant. Once this contract is signed, y-”

 

“I’m not signing that contract. I’m not marrying Asuka, dad.”

 

“Don’t interrupt, Sousuke, it’s bad form.” Sousuke flinched. He knew this tone. The clipped pronunciation, the increased anchoring of breath, the precise and measured use of pauses and volume. This was the voice of the head of Yamazaki Inc. and it left no room for compromise. “Of course you are. You’re gay, so what? We have all given up something for this family, son. Sacrifice is not unique to you. You will sign this contract, take up your former position at Yamazaki Inc. again, and you will provide this family with honour and an heir.”

 

“No.” Sousuke proclaimed, his voice reverberating with anger.

 

“No? And then what? You die of HIV, homeless and alone on the streets because no one would want to hire or house you, and no one wants to be associated with you? I think not.”

 

“Oh, fuck you, dad. It’s not like coming out as gay means you automatically get diagnosed with HIV and lose your job. Don’t be so fucking convoluted.” He could tell he was hitting some buttons, because a muscle twitched in his father’s jaw at this point.

 

“I’m not being convoluted, I am being realistic. You’re a single, young ma-”

 

“I’m not single.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I’m not single. I have a boyfriend. And I love him. I fucking love him, dad, and I am not giving him up just so that you can save face!” It felt so liberating to shout that at his old man’s face, and Sousuke felt the rush of adrenaline fill his entire body.

 

“And how long have you been together? Years? Months?” The rush was replaced with a knot in his stomach within seconds, because Sousuke knew where this was going as his father gave him a condescending look before landing his verbal stab. 

 

“Weeks?” Trying to lie was useless, because his father could always see right through him.

 

“Thought so. This is just a phase, Sousuke. It will pass.” Sousuke willed himself to not punch him right there and then, biting his tongue as his father continued. “And when it does, I want there to be more than some poorly paid nonsense job waiting for you. I mean, you can’t expect to make a living serving coffee for the rest of your life-”

 

“Fucking watch me!” Sousuke shot up from his chair, fuelled by defiance and fury, and his father simply looked up at him, face riddled with tension and barely kept composure.

 

“If you insist on doing this, please consider yourself cut off from any support you have previously received, and removed from this family.”

 

“Fuck this family.” With that, Sousuke spun and marched out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	24. The Mikoshiba Method

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! My depression has been flirting with rock bottom, and I've spent the last month just trying to fight destructive thoughts and impulses, so writing has simply just not happened. Things are a little better now and I'm already writing the next chapter, but I dare not make any assumptions or promises about when it will be done.

It was all Isuzu Mikoshiba's doing, of course. She was studying coding and programming at the same university as Ai and the three of them shared a flat together. Although Gou almost never saw them in the living room at the same time due to their widely different schedule, when Sousuke called, Ai had a rare late night study session on the couch, and Isuzu happened to be sitting in what they fondly called her “hacker den”, a cave of wires, cables and computers that filled a small alcove in the living room. Gou and Ai called an emergency meeting, and as they brewed tea and discussed the situation, Isuzu decided to pipe in with a suggestion which had quickly been turned into a plan.

The first half of said plan involved hijacking Sousuke’s phone, which Gou initially had opposed, but Isuzu swore on her favourite collectable issue of Muscle Magazine and her mint condition SNES that she would not pry any more than what was absolutely necessary, and reminded her that they were doing this to help Sousuke. That had put Gou’s mind somewhat at ease and she watched with fascination as her girlfriend did her magic. It turned out it was a fairly easy task for someone who knew far too well what they were doing, and Sousuke had literally no protection on his phone. Isuzu promised she would make it up to him by upgrading his phone security once they were done. The aim was to send a text to Asuka, establishing contact and fishing for information. Sousuke had told Gou that he suspected that Asuka’s abuser might be at it again, and that this could be the catalyst and motivator for her actions, but they needed more to go on than Sousuke’s gut feeling.

_To Asuka: Is he hurting you again?_

The response came very quickly after.

_From Asuka: What are you talking about?_

They had expected as much.

_To Asuka: Babe, if this is gonna work, you need to be honest with me. I wanna help you._

This time the answer took much longer, nearly fifteen minutes, in fact, and just when they started to give up hope that she would bite, a text ticked in.

_From Asuka: Yes._

The relief of her responding had quickly been replaced with a gut-wrenching feeling of despair. As much as Gou loathed what Asuka had done to Sousuke, where she once felt hate for the girl, there was now only pity. From here on they needed to proceed with care. They had discussed this, and Ai had pointed out that going the legal route could potentially be almost as traumatising as letting the abuse continue, as rape victims were often blamed and shamed by the public as well as the police, and investigations in cases such as these were likely to require the victim reenact the assault with a live-sized doll. Gou and Isuzu were mortified, and they all agreed that alternative measures needed to be taken.

_To Asuka: Are you safe right now?_

_From Asuka: No._

_To Asuka: Are you capable of getting somewhere safe?_

_From Asuka: No…_

“We have to help her,” Isuzu declared, and the other two had simply nodded in agreement.

_ To Asuka: What if I get someone to come and pick you up? _

_From Asuka: Can’t you?_

_To Asuka: You know as well as I how that would look. I can get some friends to pick you up. If you’re ok with that._

They all held their breaths as they sent the message. This one could make-or-break the entire operation. The reply took a little longer this time.

_From Asuka: Who?_

They exchanged looks. This was it.

_To Asuka: Gou and her girlfriend. I know you and Gou haven’t seen eye to eye, but I swear on everything that is good, she’ll be willing to help if I explain everything to her._

There was no response for nearly 20 minutes, so Isuzu wrote up another message.

_To Asuka: Please, Asuka. Let us help you. I can’t stand the thought of you being hurt._

The answer came five minutes later.

_From Asuka: Ok._

They had managed to arrange that she would pack some essentials and sneak out of the house to meet Gou and Isuzu by the garden exit of the property. They had given her their phone numbers and agreed on a time, so at ten to two in the morning, they got out of Gou’s red Toyota Yaris and, leaning up against it, they waited.

Gou had been at the Takagi residence before and it was still as impressive as it was back then, even in the darkness of the early morning hours, but the knowledge of what kind of memories it had left Sousuke with was enough to taint it for her. Isuzu, on the other hand, marvelled at the parts of the building visible through the trees and bushes of the enormous garden, and it was all Gou could do to keep her voice down.

They had left Ai in the flat as he called in some favours to get accommodation for Asuka sorted at HELP (“House in Emergency of Love and Peace”) an emergency shelter in the Shinjuku ward in Tokyo, and as a message saying it was all in order ticked in on Gou's phone, there was a rustling of leaves.

Asuka had left her beauty magazine make-up, perfectly styled hair and business chique clothes behind in favour of a face washed clear of foundation and pretense, bed hair and casual clothes that allowed her to move silently and quickly. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and fear trickling down from tired eyes.

Apprehension filled Gou, but Isuzu, being her easy-going self, confidently moved towards the approaching blonde and gently squeezed her shoulder. It was like a switch had been flipped and Asuka dissolved into quiet sobs, allowing Isuzu to wrap her arms protectively around her.

“It's okay. You're okay. We got you. We got you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	25. A Lesbian's Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of shit has been happening. Turns out that the IUD I got last summer is the main culprit for the sever depression and executive dysfunction I was thrown into and struggled with the last six months. And just after I got it removed, and my mental health started to rapidly improve, I lost my job due to (oh, the irony) the effects of my executive dysfunction.
> 
> So, writing has been difficult while all of this shit was going on, but I've finally managed to finish this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it!

The oppressive humidity of the last week had finally subsided to a clear, crisp sky with promises of autumn, and Sousuke couldn’t help but feel somewhat refreshed in spite of the bundle of nerves still nestled in the pit of his stomach. The trip from his father’s office to Kisumi’s coffee shop felt both long and short at the same time, that odd sensation of being both giddy and apprehensive. He would see Makoto today, but he would also have to tell him that he would be losing his flat very soon.

 

As he parked his bike back on the same spot it had been when he picked it up that morning, his phone started buzzing and the candid picture he had taken of Gou flipping him off popped up on the screen.

 

“Hey, what’s up?”

 

“Okay, Sousuke, first of all, please don’t get angry!”  _ Uh-oh. _

 

“Uuuuhhhmmm, what did you do, Gou?”

 

“We hacked into your phone, b-”

 

“You what!?” Sousuke lowered his hand to look at his phone, as if expecting to see some sort of marks on it to prove that someone had indeed been fiddling with it, and then realised how utterly silly that notion was and lifted it back to his ear.

 

“But I promise it was to help you and we didn’t pry! Isuzu swore on her SNES!” Gou spoke the last few words with a reverence only someone who knew the value of retro gaming could ever appreciate, and Sousuke most definitely fell into that category.

 

“She has a SNES?”

 

“Yes! Mint condition! With Seiken Densetsu 2, four control pads with extension adapters and everything! An- but that’s beside the point. Look, we… we may have gotten in touch with Asuka pretending to be you.”

 

“YOU WHAT!? Why the fuck would you do that!?” The spell of retro gaming awe shattered like a controller thrown at the wall in the midst of a rage-quit.

 

“Sousuke, please, just hear me out! We got in touch with her to find out if your suspicions were correct, and… well, they were.”

 

“Oh shit…” There was a moment of silence on both sides of the phone before Gou cleared her throat.

 

“But it’s okay! Ai has sorted it all out!”

 

“Ai? What do you mean?”

 

“Well, Isuzu and I put together a rescue mission! It was so freaking clever and- long story short, we picked her up around two o’clock this morning and got her to an emergency accommodation Ai has sorted out for her. Isuzu has saved the message exchange we made with her in a folder on your phone, but I don’t think you’ll need it. We told her everything when we got back to the flat.”

 

Flabbergasted would be an understatement of what Sousuke felt at that very moment.

 

“What… how… how did you manage to get her to go along on this?”

 

“She nearly didn’t. She would have left the flat in a state of fury had it not been for Ai. He managed to talk some sense into her and reassured her that he would put her in touch with people who could help her if she agreed to go to the emergency accommodation at HELP. I don't know what kind of magic that boy has, but he could tame a lion, I swear! He just somehow instantly won her trust and said all the things she clearly needed to hear. I mean, I knew he was good with people from the way he handled the captaincy back at Samezuka, but now I really understand what Rin meant about him having an untapped capacity for greatness! Anyway, Asuka knows that you won’t be going along with her plan, and while she didn’t like it, she seems to have at least accepted it. I suggest sending Ai a box of chocolates or something.”

 

“I…” There were a countless words he would have liked to say, but somehow, the means to string them together was missing.

 

“Sousuke?”

 

“I don’t know what to say.”

 

“You don’t need to say anything. We love you, you know.” Gou’s words summoned a lump in his throat and it was all he could do to hum a noise of agreement, because he could not think of any words that could ever adequately convey his feelings of gratitude and love at that moment.

 

“Anyway, you should be receiving a text from Isuzu with instructions for improving the security on your phone. Oh, and she cleaned it of spyware an-”

 

“Yo, Sou-chan!” clearly Gou's girlfriend had snatched the phone out of her hands, cause there was no mistaking the energy of a Mikoshiba voice.

 

“You might wanna start being a little more careful when you watch stuff on Hub, if you catch my drift, yeah?” Sousuke most certainly caught her drift and could feel his skin attempting to imitate a pickled beet. There was some noise indicating the phone had been snatched back by its owner and he could nearly hear Matsuoka the younger scowl at Isuzu while grumbling something about what the hell ‘Hub’ was anyway. He felt blessed that Rin’s little sister still retained some of her innocence.

 

“Ok, so clearly, I have a ginger terror to discipline here, so I'm gonna hang up-” There was a whoop it the background and Sousuke prayed he had misheard what sounded like an excited ‘I'll get the cuffs’. 

 

“ISU!” At least Sousuke was clearly no longer the only pickled beet in this conversation. Nonetheless, he mumbled an ‘I really don't want to know’ before he said his goodbye, leaving Gou still blustering with embarrassment. 

 

Chuckling, he put his phone away and dismounted his parked bike, heading into the coffee shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Ingridbeast)
> 
> My [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/ingridbeast)


	26. Unbreakable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write this as two chapters, but I figured I'd just stick it all into one. So, here it is, the final chapter! Thank you all so much for sticking with me in spite of how long it's taken me to finish this! I hope you enjoy it! ˆ_ˆ
> 
> Artwork is a commission by the ever wonderful [Bricc](http://twitter.com/brickerbeet/)

It's not like he expected everything to suddenly be alright once he spoke to Gou, but it certainly would have been better than this. Makoto had gotten up late and tried to ring her first thing, but no one picked up and he suspected she either had a lie-in or that she was in a class with her phone on silent mode. It couldn't be helped, and he let Haru do his part to calm the anxiety building up in his chest.

 

_‘We need to talk.’_

 

It felt so final, even though, as his best friend reminded him, nothing was certain yet.

 

“If he can’t appreciate that he’s won the heart of the gentlest and kindest person in the world, then he doesn’t deserve you.” Haru really should have known that those words would only turn on the waterworks again, and they stood in the hallway, shoelaces half tied, while Makoto collected himself. Stepping outside, it was colder, and as they approached Haru’s car, Makoto stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and felt the shape of his present for Sousuke. Haru must have put it there. He looked over at his friend who gave him a shrug and a look that simply said _‘well you never know’._

 

The drive there took less time than Makoto would have preferred and he peeked out the window from their parking space across the road to see the unmistakable silhouette of Sousuke standing near the counter, Kisumi by his side.  His chest tightened. _Last time I saw you, you were kissing someone else._ He tried to shove the thought away, but his eyes stung and he pressed his index finger and his thumb underneath his glasses to rub the wetness away.

 

Haru said nothing, but Makoto could feel a hand gently squeeze his shoulder. Steadying his breath, he undid his seat belt, and got out of the car. The sound of a second car door being closed told him Haru was right behind him, and he started to walk towards the pedestrian crossing. His nerves made him feel all hot and frazzled, so he peeled off his jacket and carried it under his arm while rolling up the sleeves of his green shirt. It almost felt like he was getting ready for some sort of battle, but then he looked through the window at Sousuke, standing there in a short sleeved, black pique shirt that accentuated the curves of his muscles, only obscured by his work apron, fingers playing with the the hem of the front pocket, and eyes, oh, gods, eyes looking right at him! He felt himself falter. He stopped, gaze dropping down to study the grey pavement beneath his feet. He was about to turn around when he felt Haru’s elbow nudge him in the side.

 

“You’ve got this.” The _‘I’m here’_ was unspoken, but very much communicated by the wide pupils of Haru’s eyes.

 

He entered the coffee shop.

 

* * *

  
It’s not like he didn’t know this would happen, but the anxiety was so gravely written all over Makoto’s face, that Sousuke nearly lost his balance from the overwhelming rush of worry creeping up on him. What unnerved him the most, however, was the way Makoto seemed to avoid eye contact with him. Haru had taken a seat a few tables away; close enough to be near by, should Makoto need him, but far enough away to give the two privacy. Sousuke felt strangely grateful for the freestyle swimmer's presence. He bit his lower lip, straightened his back and took a deep breath. _Here goes!_

 

While Sousuke closed in on him, Makoto, who had been standing still rather awkwardly abruptly strode over to a nearby vacant table and tossed his jacket on one of the chairs, but without something to fidget with, he looked even more awkward, and Sousuke couldn’t help but feel his heart swell at how endearing he looked. They were only a few feet apart when he spoke, and Makoto was still not looking at him.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Uh, hey…”

 

“Look, first of all, I’m so sorry about the texts. I’m not breaking up with you or anything.” Finally, the set of green eyes he had been longing to connect with snapped up and locked with his, wide with surprise and disbelief.

 

“I didn’t realise how they looked until Kisumi pointed it out just now, and I’m so sorry if I got you worried.”

 

Makoto scrutinised his face, as if looking for some tell-tale sign that Sousuke was lying, brows drawn into a frown. Then he paused to study the floor for a moment, nodding to himself before sternly meeting Sousuke's gaze again, but this time those green irises were filled with anger.

 

“How long have you been cheating on me?”

 

Of all the things he could have imagined Makoto saying, this was probably the least expected one.

 

“What? I'm not! I- why would you think-”

 

“I saw you,” Makoto sneer through gritted teeth, fists clenched, and Sousuke wracked his mind for anything that could have given his boyfriend the idea that he would ever find it in him to cheat on him, coming up blank.

 

“I don’t unde-”

 

“Last night. In the park. I saw you. I saw you kissing a girl.” And then all the pieces fell into place, making Sousuke deflate with relief and anxiety.

 

“That girl you saw, that was Asuka, Makoto." He let his words sink in, giving Makoto time to process it before he continued. "And trust me, the last thing I wanted was for her to kiss me, but I froze. It was like watching myself from a distance and not being able to do anything about it. Asahi says it happens to him a lot when his anxiety takes over.” He could tell Makoto was still feeling uncertain, but some of the tension had seeped out of his fist, so he proceeded. “Look, I am not, in any way cheating on you, least of all with Asuka, and what you saw last night was one of the most uncomfortable moments of my life since I left her. You can ask Kisumi and Asahi if you want. They were both there. They steadied me when I threw up in the bushes afterwards.” The last bit of tenseness evaporated with Makoto’s sigh, a sigh that made his shoulders sag and his head hang.

 

“So, you’re not breaking up with me,” Makoto’s voice was shaky, like he was fighting back tears, “and you’re not cheating on me. I’m just an idiot who makes far too many stupid assumptions and then throws nasty, unfounded accusations at his boyfriend. I wouldn’t blame you if you did dump me after this.” It was so painful to hear him say those words, to hear the quiver in Makoto’s voice, dripping with self-loathing. 

 

“Hey. Don’t you dare say stuff like that about my boyfriend,” Sousuke whispered, stepping closer. “You go on about how you're weak and stupid and worthless, but that's the depression speaking, Makoto. I've seen you take on other people's troubles like it's nothing. I've seen you lead a team to victory. I've seen you put hope and joy into the eyes and hearts of children. I've seen you go through so much and you're still standing tall, hell I've seen you swimming like a freaking orca! When you decide to fight for something, you're unbreakable! And if you think I’m leaving you, then you need new glasses,” Sousuke teased and gingerly lifted the black frame off Makoto’s face, “cause I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Makoto blinked away the moisture from his eye, now red rimmed and intensely more green than usual.

 

“I’d be pretty stupid to break up with you now that I’ve realised that I love you,” he said, watching the green irises give way for blown pupils and lips fall open. Those lips. He couldn’t help himself, so he leaned in and captured them, feeling their divine softness against his own, letting his hands run lightly up Makoto’s arms. He could hear whispers and hushed gasps from other customers, but he didn’t care who saw and who knew, only that he was kissing Makoto again, and it was the best feeling in the entire world.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Makoto’s mind was reeling as he heard Sousuke say those three last words, and when lips pressed against his, all his senses seemed temporarily hightended, as if he could feel the blood rushing in Sousuke’s lips, Sousuke’s heartbeat matching his own fevered pace, and Sousuke’s scent lingering like an overtone to the perfume of coffee.

 

Sure, they had kissed, and much more, before, but never so much as held hands in public. He could hear the hushed whispers around them as he felt the tip of a tongue pleading for entry past his lips, and the rush of it made his head spin. Their kiss deepened for a short time before Sousuke broke it, nuzzling his nose against Makoto’s, murmuring sweet I love yous onto his skin. He faintly registered Kisumi’s voice saying that anyone who had a problem with this could pack their stuff and leave, and the whispers subsided. Two people left, but Makoto didn’t offer them the satisfaction of a single glance. His focus was entirely on the man before him. That painfully beautiful man before him who somehow had come to love him, love _him_ , and everything that meant.

 

“Move in with me.” For a moment he wasn’t sure if he had said it out loud, but then he saw the widening of teal eyes. He smiled. “I know it’s probably way too soon, and we’ve hardly been together for a month, but-”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yes, I’ll move in with you,” Sousuke said voice firm, a smile lurking in the corner of his mouth.

 

“You will?!”

 

“Well, I kind of came out to my dad and told him I refused to spend my life pretending to be straight just to honor the family or some shit like that, so I have to find a new place to live anyway.”

 

“Oh, shit... Sousuke, I’m so sorry…”

 

“Don’t be. Flipping the finger to my dad was the most satisfying outcome of any discussion I have ever had with him. I’d do it again any day!” They shared a chuckle.

 

“So, I guess this is the appropriate time to give you this, then,” Makoto mused and dug out the little wrapped box from inside his jacket pocket, placing it in Sousuke’s hands. “Happy birthday, Sousuke.”

 

His boyfriend looked at him as if he had completely forgotten his birthday, and given the circumstances, that might actually have been the case. Makoto cast a quick glance at Haru, who had donned that whisper of a smile he sometimes got when he was so happy he couldn't contain himself. Heart filled with so much joy, he felt like it might actually burst, Makoto watched Sousuke as he opened the little card attached to it the gift and read it out in a low voice.

 

“ _For whenever you want to hang out, get your ass kicked in Mario Cart or just get away from the world and close your eyes a while. - Makoto.”_ Teal eyes glanced up at him, intrigued, before fingers nimbly unwrapped the little box and opening it.

 

“Is this…?”  Sousuke's face was a picture of disbelief as he looked up at him. Makoto nodded.

 

“It’s a key to my flat. _Our_ flat. I’ll admit, I hadn’t planned on asking you to move in when I got it done, I just wanted you to feel like you could always come over, that you are always welcome, but then… I don’t know, it just felt right- Hey!” Teal eyes filled with water and Sousuke blinked furiously to keep it from spilling down his cheek.

 

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

 

“You don’t need to say anything,” Makoto reassured him, and, as a red blush spread on the tips of his ears, he leaned in and whispered “I love you too,” before capturing his lips for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [Tumblr](http://ingridbeast.tumblr.com/)
> 
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